Twisted Love
by Robbie the Phoenix
Summary: AU, Slash. Sam and Dean receive coordinates pointing them to what appears to be a rather peaceful town. That is, until they discover that’s something’s been killing young men in their sleep, and if the boys aren’t careful, they could be the next victims.
1. Where To Now?

**Twisted Love**

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit and their parents.

**Author's Note:** I repostedthis first chapterbecause **supernatural fan**'s review made me realize I needed to add a warning in case people didn't understand that theSamOMC bit in the summary meant he was going to be gay. Most of this chapter is beta'd, thanks to Chase and mysterychic.

**Review Answers:** Since I reposted this, I thought I'd answer the two reviews. Two reviews, and this chapter has gotten over 120 hits, plus three people have put it on alert. Surely it isn't just five people who have just looked at it over a two dozen times each.

_Spuffyshipper_ - Yay, compliment. Yes it worked, I'm glad Johnny didn't appear too forward, that was basically the only thing I was worried about. And I'm glad you like the pairing. I've noticed there are tons of OFC romance, andquite a bitof wincest, but there just don't seem to be many OMC romance.

_supernatural fan_ - Too late, done is done, the whole point of this story (well, one of the whole points) was some OMC romance. Guess you hate this story. That's okay, I figured some people would.

**Full Summary:** Sam and Dean receive coordinates pointing them to what appears to be a rather peaceful town. That is, until they discover that's something's been killing young men in their sleep, and if the boys aren't careful, they could be the next victims. slash, SamOMC.

**Warnings**: Slash. If that bothers you, don't read, don't review. Simple as that.

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**Chapter 1:** Where to Now?

Sam walked out of the service station with two paper bags in hand, one holding a meat pie for himself, the other containing a hot dog for his brother. Not exactly an ideal breakfast, but Sam and Dean lived by the phrase 'beggars can't be choosers', so it didn't matter much to them, having had worse breakfasts than a pie or hotdog growing up.

He looked in through the wheel, and suppressed a laugh when he saw his brother, head slumped back against the seat, mouth hanging open slightly. Shaking his head, he quietly opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat, turning the car on as he closed the door. When Dean didn't wake up to the familiar hum of the Impala coming to life, Sam reached down and turned the volume knob around, fast. AC/DC filled the car with a sudden and (in Dean's case) unexpectedly loud song, jolting the older Winchester from his sleep.

"Wha' happened?" he gasped, giving a startled jerk as he was suddenly woken from his sleep, and looking wildly around the car. Sam immediately turned the volume back down, an amused smile on his face as he shifted into gear and pulled out of the service station, pleased to see Dean was still trying to determine what had caused his abrupt awakening.

"You okay, big brother?" Sam asked, in the exact same way Dean had asked him hours earlier in the motel room after putting a bullet to a Shtriga's head: serious and concerned. Though in this case it also had barely contained laughter mixed in with it.

"Yeah, yeah… Yeah, I'm fine," Dean said, nodding and looking at his brother, though he himself looked unconvinced. "So, uh…" He cleared his throat. "Where're we going?" he asked. Sam pointed to the map on the dashboard and then told Dean the coordinates their father had sent them just as they'd come into the service station for breakfast and gas. Dean nodded, examining the map and checking the coordinates every few minutes.

"Newbridge Falls," he said after a minute. Sam shot him a puzzled look. "Eyes on the road," Dean said without looking up from the map. Sam returned his gaze to the road ahead. "Oh, yeah, Dad and I did a job there a couple years back," he said.

"When was this?" Sam asked. "I don't remember ever going there," he said.

"It was… uh… after you left," Dean said.

"Oh," Sam said neutrally, though his grip visibly tightened on the steering wheel. Dean noticed him tense up, apparently not welcoming the reminder that he had, for all intents and purposes, abandoned his family. Neither of them said anything for a while. "What was it?" Sam finally asked.

"What was what?" Dean asked.

"Why were you there?" Sam asked, glancing at his brother for a second before looking back to the road.

"Oh, it was a succubus," Dean said.

"So what happened?" Sam asked.

"'Got the bitch into bed and Dad torched her," was Dean's reply. He looked over. "It's the only time they're vulnerable, when they're in bed with a man; although Dad sure took his time coming in with the flamethrower; for a minute I thought he was just gonna let her have me," he explained. Sam cracked a grin at that, chuckling and shaking his head. "It's not funny," Dean said, trying to sound hurt by Sam's laughter... and failing. The smile on his face kind of spoiled it.

"What did you do?" Sam asked.

"I punched her in the-"

"Not about the succubus," Sam said. "What did you do that gave you reason to believe Dad was going to leave you to her?" he asked.

"What makes you so sure I did something?"

"Because Dad always cuts it close if we don't act like adults; has done ever since we were teenagers." Sam said. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing too drastic," Dean said. He saw Sam's questioning look. "You keep your mind on the road," Dean ordered, and with a small shrug, Sam turned his attention back to the road.

"How far?" Sam asked.

"A day's drive, maybe a little less if we push it," was Dean's answer. He leaned back against the headrest of his seat. "Wake me when it's my turn to drive," he said.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam said, still smiling as he tried to keep his mind from wandering to whatever it was Dean could've done to cause their father to cut it so close.

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Just as Dean had said, it took them just under a day to Newbridge, which happened to be named after the (now very old) bridge that crossed over a river right before a treacherous steep drop resulting in a waterfall.

"You sure it wasn't something else you fought in this town?" Sam asked as they drove into town alongside the river. "Like maybe a water spirit or something?"

"Nope, definitely a succubus," Dean said. "I wonder what it is that's taken up residence here this time," he said, looking out his window.

"Let's find out in the morning," Sam said, suppressing a yawn. "I need to get some sleep in something that isn't a car seat."

"Well, there's a motel just down the road," Dean said. "We can crash there for the night." He drove them into the motel parking lot, and got out of the car. Sam followed him a few seconds later, though instead of following Dean inside, he went around the back of the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out his backpack and Dean's duffle bag. They'd be going straight to sleep, as far as Sam guessed, so it wasn't necessary to bring in the laptop or any of their supplies just yet. Truth be told, Sam was so tired he could've crashed in the front seat of the car if he'd really had to. Thankfully, he hadn't had to, because that would've equalled a lousy night's sleep.

"Hey, Sam, you comin' or what?" Dean called over his shoulder from the door, looking at the younger man who was getting their bags. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, coming." He said, shouldering the backpack and pulling the trunk shut, locking it, and then running to join his brother as Dean approached the front desk inside.

"Dean Winchester? It can't be." Sam and Dean both turned to look in the direction of the voice, which turned out to belong to a young man, or more boy in his late teens, who stood maybe an inch taller then Dean, with short, slightly untidy blonde hair. Dean cracked a grin at the youth.

"Johnny Fields." He said. He walked over and embraced the youth, which came as an extreme shock to Sam; Dean rarely showed such open acts of affection for anyone who wasn't an attractive member of the opposite sex, and it was rarely as lacking in sexual advances as this embrace was. It was merely two old friends greeting each other. In this case, one of them looked barely eighteen.

After a moment, Dean pulled back, a smile on his face. "Last time I saw you, you were a strapping young lad of five foot ten." Then he frowned, looking the boy up and down. "When did you get taller then me?" He demanded.

The boy, Johnny, gave a small laugh. "Some time last summer." He said. Sam cleared his throat. Loudly. Dean looked over his shoulder, as if only just remembering his brother was there.

"Right, uh, Johnny, this is my brother, Sam." He said, gesturing toward his brother. "Sam, this is Johnny Fields. I met him the last time I was here."

"On that note, why are you back?" Johnny asked the older man. "I thought you'd done whatever it was you needed to do the last time you were here." He said, looking between Dean and Sam.

"Yeah, I guess it wasn't as finished as Dad and I thought." Dean said. "So what are you doing here? Don't tell me you actually moved out of your parents house." Johnny looked a little uneasy for a minute. Then he grinned and shook his head.

"Not in this lifetime." He said. "No, I got a job here to help pay for the rent." He said. "I figured since I am now legally an adult, I should help my parents pay some of the rent." Dean eyed the young man suspiciously. "The busted up CD player in my car has nothing to do with it, I swear." Johnny added, his grin going wider. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Great, another one like you." He said. He shifted his backpack to his other shoulder. "If you two don't mind, I need to go begin an intense study of the inside of my eyelids. Good to meet you, goodnight." And with that, Sam walked off in the direction of the room (after getting directions from the young woman at the front desk – Sam momentarily wondered how much charm Dean had put on and how low he'd gotten the price).

Dean nodded briefly to Sam, before turning his attention back to Johnny. "So, how you been?" He asked, "Last time I saw you, I recall you were having some family troubles, and you were trying to _blackmail_ me into buying you beer." Johnny gave a laugh.

"Ah, the good old days." He said. "Yeah, well, Dad stopped drinking; Mum actually got up off the couch and went out and found a job. And Kit…" He trailed off, seeing Dean's somewhat uneasy expression.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Just don't get on her bad side." Johnny warned. Dean nodded. The last time he'd been here, Kit, Johnny's older sister, had been a hot-headed, eighteen-year-old who had coerced Dean into getting drunk and then had driven him home to have sex with; when Kit's parents caught them on the couch, they moved out to the impala, and did it on the hood of the car (because Dean, even in his drunken state, refused to do it on the back seat).

Kit had 'forgotten' about it by the next morning, and refused to admit she even knew him until they were introduced. The young red-head, as it turned out, had done this to at least half the male population of the town, and any and all visitors (male or female) who were close enough to her age, and one or two who weren't.

Suddenly feeling a lot less tired then he had, Dean looked around the room. "So, what time do you get off? Now that you're legal, I wouldn't mind buying you that beer." He said. Johnny laughed.

"I'll be off in about five minutes; I know just the place we can go." He said.

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"So, anything new been happening in town recently?" Dean asked, leaning back against the booth he and Johnny were sitting in. If anyone could get him up to date on anything strange, it was Johnny, who, it seemed, heard all the local gossip while working at the motel.

"Nothing too interesting." Johnny said, taking a sip of his beer, and trying to hide his distaste. Dean tried not to smile when he saw the youth swallowing the small mouthful, with only a little difficulty. Johnny obviously became aware Dean knew how little he ever wanted to drink beer again and didn't want to talk about it, so he added quickly, "Unless you count a couple of guys dying in bed." Dean almost choked on his beer. Johnny frowned as Dean coughed and spluttered, giving the older man a chance to recover. "You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Dean said when he'd finally stopped coughing. "You said guys have been dying in bed?" He asked. Johnny nodded, eyeing Dean strangely.

"Yeah… no one can explain it; it's like they just… I don't know, wore out." He said. "Mum's getting worried; doesn't like me being out so long after dark. She actually started telling Kit to come pick me up from my job, y'know." Dean laughed.

"I bet that went down well." He said, taking another gulp of his beer.

"Oh, no, she was really good about it." Johnny said, looking like he was trying hard to keep a straight face. "She, uh…" He snorted. "She put her fist through the door." They both let out a short burst of laughter.

"Yep, that definitely sounds like the Kit I knew and lusted." Dean said. "How is the little nymphomaniac?" He asked, though his mind was still vaguely on what Johnny had told him; men found dead in their beds, appearing to be completely worn out. It wasn't exactly an unfamiliar scenario to him.

"Oh, she's doing well." Johnny said. "She moved out; about ten minutes after the door fiasco… She's more or less living in the back seat of her car at the moment; I bring her dinner." He said proudly, like he was pleased that his sister was depending on him for food. Dean grinned at his friend; though Johnny had been little more then sixteen when they'd first met, and Dean had been twenty-four, the two had instantly become friends; something that didn't happen to often in Dean's line of work, and it felt good to be able to hang with someone he knew who wasn't his brother.

"We should probably get going soon." Johnny said, glancing at the clock. "Mum'll start getting worried if I'm not home by eleven." He made one last attempt to enjoy is beer (failing miserably), and then got to his feet, tossing the bottle into a nearby trashcan. "Can I drop you off at the motel?" He asked.

"Yeah, that'd be good thanks." Dean said, getting to his feet with the youth.

Johnny led Dean out to the car, and Dean frowned at the dark green Volkswagen Johnny owned. "Seriously dude, your car is a disappointment and a disgrace to the road it's driven on." He said. "I'm actually not surprised your CD player got busted up; it probably died from embarrassment, I know I would."

"Just be thankful it's night," Johnny said, getting into the car. "At least no one will be able to see you in it." He grinned at Dean, and waited for the older man to walk around and get into the passengers seat. Johnny grinned at his friend, then put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road. The motel was a good ten or fifteen minutes away, and they drove in silence for about five. Then Johnny said something Dean never thought he'd hear another guy (let alone a guy who barely knew Sam) say: "You're brother's cute."

Dean wasn't sure if he should be shocked, surprised or horrified that someone thought his brother was cute, without even looking twice at him. The fact that Johnny was a guy didn't even factor into these thoughts.

"I suppose… if you're into the whole tall, dark and geeky thing." He said, trying to play it cool while his mind worked overtime to figure out if Johnny was about to asked what he was about to ask.

"How long are you guys in town?" The eighteen-year-old asked.

"Uh… dunno…" Dean said evasively. Johnny couldn't really… could he? "Depends how long it takes to clear up our… job." He said. Johnny nodded. Oh, god, he did. Dean tried very hard to think what to do with this startling information; the first thing that came to mind was telling Johnny that Sam was straight and to leave it at that. But then Dean remembered the one or two guys Sam had brought home (while their Dad was conveniently away on a hunt) during his puberty years. He even brought one home after he turned sixteen, but after that seemed to swear off men.

"Oh, okay…" Johnny said, breaking into Dean's thought. He didn't press the subject, obviously noticing the tension that had suddenly appeared between them. Dean glanced at the young man, whom just a couple years earlier had seemed little more then a boy. It never failed to amaze Dean how much someone could change in just a few short years. Though it probably should, considering he'd grown more responsible by the age of six then most people were at age eighteen. He'd gone from an innocent four-year-old boy to a grown man in all but physical appearance in just two short years.

Johnny obviously didn't want to leave with the tension between them, so as they pulled up by the motel, he put a hand on Dean's shoulder, thankful when Dean was at least not bothered by the gesture like some guys were after learning about him.

"I'm sorry; I probably shouldn't have brought this up now." He said.

"Nah, it's okay." Dean said, sending a grin over his shoulder. "I was just surprised you looked straight past me and went for Sammy." Johnny scoffed.

"Same old Dean." He said with a grin of his own. Dean's joke told him they were okay. That was his way; telling people how he felt by covering his feelings up with sarcasm and jokes. You just had to know how to translate. "I'll see you?" He asked.

"You work here don't you?" Dean asked, not expecting an answer. "Yeah, you'll see me." He said, like Johnny didn't already know. "'Night dude." He said, getting out of the car and walking towards the motel.

"'Night Dean." Johnny said, glad to have the older man back in town. They'd gotten close the last time he'd been there, and he was thankful that closeness hadn't faded away over the two years since he'd seen Dean. They'd sent a couple emails, Dean even sent him a letter at one stage, but that wasn't really very much in the big scheme of things.

Dean watched as the eighteen-year-old drove away in his disgrace of a car. He gave a half-smile and shook his head. The young man was a great deal more open and care free then he had been two years earlier, when Dean had first met him. He was glad to see Johnny had learned to open himself up to people; something about the teen had hit Dean somewhere deep; maybe he reminded him a little of Sam. Or maybe he reminded him a little of himself. Whatever it was, it made Dean feel good to see the boy happy.

With that thought, the young hunter turned and headed toward the motel room, a half-smile on his face as he thought of the possibility of Sam going out with Johnny; maybe it wasn't as bizarre as he'd first thought…

With that in mind, he opened the door and walked in, careful to be quiet so as not to wake up Sam. As he settled down in bed, he finally let the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind have free reign, considering the possibilities of what they were up against.

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A/N: So, what did y'all think of the beginning? Was I too forward with Johnny being attracted to Sam? What did you think of him as a whole? There are many, many more questions I'd like to ask, but I cannot for the life of me think what they are. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Now please make your way to the review button and leave me a little message to say what you think. Comments and _constructive _criticism welcome. Flames will be ignored completely.**Where to Now? 


	2. Finding the Cause

**Twisted Love**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, and Jack Foel.

**Author's Note**: One-hundred-and-fifty-eight hits, with onlytwo reviews and four alerts. Am I the only one who sees somethign wrong with this picture? Reviews make this come out quicker.

**Warnings**: Slash. Don't like, don't read, and don't review.

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Chapter 2: Finding the Cause

_It eased past the defences Dean had set around the room. Salt, cats eye shells, even a little holy water sprinkled here and there. He was expecting something. He wasn't expecting his defences to have no effect. You can't keep something out when it isn't there to begin with. And so it moved around the room like nothing more then a shadow, leaving no evidence of its visit as it moved, and came to the side of Dean's bed, watching him as he slept._

_"I haven't forgotten you." It whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face. It smiled as the young hunter shivered, and then it reached over and pulled his blankets up to cover him more. "Rest tonight, my weary hunter," it cooed, leaning down so that their lips brushed momentarily. It felt a rush of exhilaration from that brief touch, before it pulled back. And then it was gone._

Sam's eyes opened, and he sat up slowly, looking around the room. He didn't expect to see anything, but when his gaze fell on Dean, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He took in the pale skin, light blue lips, and felt as though his heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Then those few seconds passed and…

"Dean!" He cried, getting to his feet as fast as was humanly possible. He froze midstep when Dean gave a startled jerk and his eyes snapped open, staring accusingly at Sam.

"Y'know, the first time, maybe a little funny, but I really could've used that sleep…" He trailed off, seeing the worried look on his brother's face. "What's wrong?" He asked. "And why do I feel like I spent the night sleeping naked in the trunk of the impala?" Sam blinked, trying hard to keep that horrifying image out of his mind. The older Winchester sat up, trying to work the tension out of his muscles, while at the same time bring the blanket up around him to try and warm himself up.

"Dean, maybe you should look at yourself in the mirror." Sam said. He went into the bathroom, and took the mirror off its hook over the sink, and brought it back out to Dean to show him.

Dean's eyes widened when he saw his ill-looking reflection staring back at him. "Fuck, I _look_ like I spent the night-"

"No!" Sam interrupted. "Don't finish that sentence." He said in a forceful tone. Dean gave him a sheepish grin, and turned back to the mirror.

"Okay, take it away; I can't stand looking at that poor guy for another second." He said. "On second thought, I'll take it in. Maybe a nice warm shower will fix me up." He got to his feet, pulling the blanket up with him, and took the mirror from Sam, walking towards the bathroom and dropping the blanket behind him as he stepped in, pulling the door closed behind him.

Frowning, Sam walked over and picked up the blanket, dropping it back on Dean's bed as he tried to figure out what could've done this to his brother. There was always the possibility his brother was just sick, but Dean would never admit to being sick if he was on his death bed with mere hours to live. _Well, maybe on his death bed, _Sam thought, remembering that time when Dean was electrocuted. But never before that, which meant they were going to be looking for some type of supernatural cause.

He listened to the shower running for a few minutes, then decided he was hungry, so he searched Dean's jacket pockets for the car keys, then exited the motel room to go in search of breakfast.

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Dean turned off the shower once the water started to get cold, secretly hoping Sam did not want a shower anytime that day. He stepped out into the steam-filled room, and grabbed a towel off the rack. He'd been right; after just a few minutes of scolding water against his skin he'd felt a hell of a lot better then he had when he'd first woken up.

He glanced into the mirror, wiped it a bit so he could actually see his reflection, and was relieved to see he _looked_ a hell of a lot better as well. The face he'd seen earlier that morning was one that would not attract any woman younger then two years dead.

"Hey Sam, I think I may have an idea what we're dealing with." He called as he finished drying himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He frowned when he heard no response. "Sam?" He called, trying to keep the slight panic from getting worse. He opened the bathroom door, and looked around. No sign of his brother. But he noticed his leather jacket had been moved slightly from where he'd left it the night before. Walking over to the chair his jacket hung on, he checked the pocket and found his car keys missing, which more or less put his mind at ease; Sam had just gone out, probably to get them breakfast.

He quickly got dressed, tossed the towel back into the bathroom, and was just about to settle down in front of the TV when the door opened and Sam came back in carrying what Dean hoped was a real breakfast.

"Hey Sammy, is that-?"

"Bacon and eggs." Sam finished, setting the box down on the table in front of his brother. Dean hungrily swiped the box up off the table and opened the lid, feeling a wave of happiness wash over him at the sight of the golden yolks of the eggs and the grease-covered strips of bacon. Sam suppressed a chuckle at Dean's enthusiasm; it wasn't often they got a real breakfast, like normal people would eat. Whenever they did it was like someone had cooked them a feast. "And coffee." Sam said, handing his brother the foam cup. Dean gratefully took it, and then went and sat back down on the couch, setting his breakfast down on the coffee table.

Sam got out his French toast and orange juice, and went and joined his brother at the coffee table, where they enjoyed there once-in-a-lifetime feast while Dean caught Sam up on what he'd learned from Johnny the night before.

"… he didn't give me much; I got the feeling he didn't want to dwell on the subject." Dean explained. "I guess it's up to us to try and put the pieces together." He added. Sam nodded.

"So, any idea what could be killing them?" He asked, taking a short gulp of orange juice.

"Well, killed in bed, completely worn out… my guess is, we're dealing with another succubus." Dean said. Sam watched with mild interest as his brother punctured the egg yolks, and then soaked up all the yellow fluid with his bacon. He shook his head, and returned to his toast, pondering the idea of a succubus.

"Well, if it is, then we need to figure who it's going to go after next." He said. Dean nodded. "What?" Sam asked, and Dean glanced over at him, a look of confusion on his face. "You're keeping something from me." He said.

"What?" Dean asked, getting to his feet, which only confirmed to Sam that dean was not telling him something.

"What is it?" Sam asked. "Don't tell me this is another case of unfinished business that Dad's sending you after." He said, remembering their encounter with the Shtriga not for the first time since they'd killed it a couple of days earlier. Dean shook his head.

"No, no… nothing that good." Dean said. Now Sam was really worried. What could be worse then some creature their father had not killed and was now sending them after? Well, a whole lot of things leapt to mind, and Sam seriously hoped none of them were true.

"You plan on telling me what it is?" Sam asked. Dean looked like he was going to shake his head, but Sam gave him a pointed look and the older Winchester relented with a sigh of resignation.

"Johnnythinksyourcute." Sam blinked, trying to make sense of the jumble of words that had just spilled from his brother's mouth. He thought he heard Johnny's name, but that was about as much as he'd understood. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Johnny told me last night that he thinks you're cute." Sam blinked again, this time in disbelief. Whatever he'd been expecting, it had not been this, though he now understood why Dean had said it was a whole lot worse that unfinished business with a demon. While Dean didn't know exactly why Sam had lost interest in dating guys, he knew something had happened that had caused the younger Winchester's withdrawal from the dating community.

Unsure what else to do, the younger Winchester just collapsed into one of the chairs, trying to make sense of the mess of feelings he was getting. It had been, what? Six years since he'd had even the slightest interest in other guys. Six or so months since anyone had had the slightest interest in him (not including Meg, since her interest had turned out to be a lot different to what it had originally seemed to be).

"He told you?" Sam asked. "He specifically told you that I was… cute?" He found the very idea of someone using that word to describe him… well, it made him feel tingly inside. "You didn't come to this conclusion on your own?" He wanted to make sure Dean hadn't moved on from trying hooking him up with women to trying to hook him up with men.

"He said, and I quote, 'Your brother's cute'. I don't think you can get any more specific then that." Dean said. Sam looked away for a minute, and Dean wasn't sure what he was going to do. But when Sam looked back, he was smiling.

"Well… it's been a while… Maybe it's about time I got back in the saddle." He said, figuring Dean got the idea of what he was saying.

Dean wasn't sure if his brother was referring to going out with men or his inability to enjoy intimate company over the last couple of months. Probably both. Either way, this had gone down a lot easier then he had expected. Sam's smile faded, and he looked down at his hands, suddenly not as enthusiastic as he had been a few moments ago.

"Something wrong?" Dean asked.

Sam looked up at him, and shook his head. "No, just thinking." He said. "I'll be fine." He added, seeing his brother's concerned look. "Come on; let's go see if we can find out anything about these men who've been killed. Maybe narrow down who's going to be the next victim." He got to his feet, walking past Dean towards the door. Dean looked over his shoulder, not quite sure what to make of his brother's swift change in moods. Shaking his head, he grabbed his leather jacket, pulled it on, and followed his brother outside.

"So he seriously thinks I'm cute?" Sam asked as they got to the car. Dean rolled his eyes when he saw a small grin return to Sam's face. He gave Sam a half smile, but refused to answer his question.

"Just get in the car." He said, surprising Sam by walking around and opening the passenger's door and climbing in. Sam opened the driver's door and climbed in as well.

"Where to?" Sam asked.

"I say we go see if we can get our hands on the recent police reports, find out what we can about the victims." Was Dean's answer. Sam nodded, staring out the window, once again with that unsure look about him. Dean frowned; what was with the yoyo effect? "Am I going to have to drive?" He asked, which was his way of asking if Sam was alright. Sam didn't look at him and simply shook his head, turning his attention to the car and turning the ignition, starting it up. Dean sighed in exasperation, and started staring out his own window. There were a lot of days when life would be so much easier if he could just read his brother's mind.

It didn't take them long to reach the police station. Dean rifled through the glove compartment where they kept all their fake IDs, selected two, and handed one to Sam. The younger Winchester glanced at it, and shot his brother a shocked look, giving him a quick shake of the head.

"No." Was all he said.

Dean gave him a half smile, but Sam fixed him with a glare that could've made a werewolf compliant. Dean rolled his eyes and snatched back the ID, shoving it back into the glove compartment and taking out a different one. Sam glanced down at it, grimaced, but didn't say anything else, not wanting to push his luck any further. Dean gave him a wry smile and opened the door, getting out of the car. Sam followed suit, replacing his old fake ID in his wallet with the new one (Sam hadn't actually had his real ID in his wallet since he'd left Stanford).

Dean led Sam up the front steps and inside. The room they walked into was separate from the rest of the station, with a front counter blocking their way to the door. Exchanging a look with Sam, Dean walked up and pressed a button on the wall that had a sign saying 'Press for Assistance'. A faint buzzing sounded, though Dean had an idea it was louder on the other side of the door.

After a few seconds, the door opened, admitting a tall, somewhat muscular man looking to be in his early thirties. "Can I help you?" He asked, eyeing the two young men.

"Actually, we were hoping to help you." Dean said, taking out his wallet and showing the man his ID. "I'm Detective Riley, this is Detective Finn." He said, nodding over his shoulder at Sam. "We heard you were having some trouble while we were passing through, thought maybe you could use some assistance."

The man looked over Dean's shoulder at Sam, frowning slightly as he took in the two young men claiming to be detectives. After a few minutes, with Sam shifting uncomfortably under the man's gaze, he lifted the board at the end of the count, admitting them into the back of the station.

"Thanks, we could use all the help we can get." He said. "Where did you say you were normally stationed?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look, both misinterpreting what the other meant. "St Louis." Sam said, at the same time Dean said "Lawrence."

The cop looked sceptically at the two of them.

"Uh, I'm normally stationed in St Louis," Sam said quickly, "Dean lives in Lawrence. We're just road tripping together at the moment." The cop still looked sceptical, but obviously decided to believe them, because he ushered them through into the back of the station.

"Jack Foel." He said, turning and offering his hand. Dean took it.

"Dean." He said, shaking the older man's hand.

"Sam." Sam said, also shaking Foel's hand.

"So, how much have you two heard?" Foel asked as he led the two 'detectives' to his desk. "I mean, we haven't released much information to the public as of yet. Except the families of course, but they've all promised not to let anything slip until we know for sure what we're dealing with."

"Uh, I found out from a friend of mine, Johnny Fields." Dean said. Foel nodded, the name obviously ringing a bell.

"Fields…" He went through some of the files. "Ah, yes, he was a friend of the latest victim." He said, showing Dean and Sam the file on the latest victim, a young man of nineteen years. "He was actually the one who found him." Foel added. Dean nodded, looking at the photo of the young man, looking more or less asleep in his bed. Dean narrowed his eyes as he looked at the photo.

"Was there anything out of the ordinary? Anything to indicate he didn't die on his own?" Dean asked, looking up from the photo. Foel considered the question.

"Anything to suggest someone else killed him? No, aside from a couple of scratches on his back, he was completely unharmed." He said.

"But…?" Sam said, knowing he hadn't told them everything.

"But… the coroner did mention that his sheets and legs with soaked in seminal fluid." The cop said. Dean blinked, giving him a look of confusion. "Sperm." He clarified.

"Oh." Dean said, giving Sam a look over his shoulder. Sam nodded, and Dean looked back at Foel. "Jack, would you mind giving me a list of the victims names and addresses?" He asked.

"Er… sure, I guess." Foel said, turning to his computer and pulling up a list, and then printing it out. When it was done, he handed the papers to Dean.

"Thanks, we'll let you know if we find out anything." Dean said, taking the papers and getting to his feet. "You coming, Sam?" He asked.

"Yeah, right." Sam said, following him. "We'll be in touch." The younger man said over his shoulder to Foel, who nodded.

"Right, okay." Foel said, watching the two young 'detectives' leave. Then he walked over to a young woman who had just started the job. "Constable, I'd like you to find out everything you can about Detective's Dean Riley and Sam Finn." He told the young woman. She looked like she wanted to argue, glancing down at the reports she had to write. Then she nodded.

"Okay, Detective." She said. "Right away."

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A/N: Well, that's chapter two done. Please people (especially people who have put this story on alert), please review and tell me what you think. 


	3. Patterns

**Twisted Love**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, and Jack Foel. I should also mention that Newbridge Falls is, as far as I know, is a fictional town created by moi. If, however, it isn't, then anything that happens in this story is completely fictional with no relation whatsoever to the real thing. I think I swallowed a lawyer or something…

**Author's Note**: There I was, minding my own business, foolishly thinking I could take a break from writing, lol. Then I happened upon three very encouraging reviews and BANG, I got sucked right back into it. Oh well, I suppose there'll be plenty of time to take breaks when I turn eighty, lol. Until then, I'll just keep on writing.

**Review Answers**:

_Spuffyshipper _– Thanks, soon enough?

_Fractured Dreams_ – Exciting? Really? Yay, that's a good sign. Don't feel bad, I don't have much clue where it's heading either. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

_talon81_ – Thanks for the good advice, I'll do that. For the record, it only bothered me for the first minute, and then I decided it was their problem if they didn't want to see Sam gay.

_puplover77_ – Ah, my diabolical plan succeeded, mwahaha (can't do the evil laugh). Glad you found that funny; that was the whole point of it. And it just seemed like the way Dean would respond when he found out he didn't know something like that. Glad you liked.

_Rose of No Man's Land_ – Yay, new review, though by no means unfamiliar, since I've read almost everything you've written Supernatural-wise. First long review of the story, always a thrill to reply to. Oh good, Sam has competition. Only kidding. You wouldn't stand a chance, lol, no offence. Yes, Sam is very much cute, lol, that's why Johnny thinks so. They're really that good? Thanks for saying so, I wouldn't have thought so (but I'm overly critical of myself, so, yeah). Yeah, I have this tendency to give them assumed names a lot. Glad you liked it. All the rest of the stuff you said, I don't know how to reply to except by saying a big "Thanks".

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Chapter 3: Patterns

Dean was driving this time while Sam read off the list of victims and addresses, letting Dean choose where to go first, since he knew this area better then Sam.

They'd been to three houses so far. And so far, all the victims had turned out to be very late teens or early twenties. Each of the victims also seemed to have some type of relationship, whether it be friend, workmate, brother, etc, with at least one of the other victims, which led Dean and Sam to believe that the succubus (they were almost positive it was a succubus now) wasn't very picky; it was choosing it's next victims by meeting them through its current ones.

Since they'd figured out its pattern, Dean was now driving Sam to the library where he hoped to find, not only when the killings actually started, but also see if there was anything new on succubae that they didn't already know.

The younger Winchester turned from his window suddenly as they drove, concern on his face.

"Dean, the most recent victim, he was a friend of Johnny's, wasn't he?" He asked. Dean gave an affirmative nod. "Well, doesn't that mean Johnny could be in danger?" Dean frowned; he hadn't thought of that. Then a thoughtful look crossed his face as he glanced at Sam. The younger Winchester looked quizzical for a second, and Dean arched an eyebrow. Sam's eyes widened.

"No, no, no, no." He said. "I am not… I can't… I barely know the guy, Dean."

"Wasn't it you who said earlier, something about getting back in the saddle?" Dean asked. "I'll call him, and tell him I told you what he said. Which, by the way, I did. Then you'll take him out for… dinner, not a beer, he doesn't like 'em, crazy kid." Sam frowned. "Never mind, anyway, it's the best way to get some info. I mean, Johnny was the one who told me the stuff we already know, minus the names and addresses. Use whatever type of charm you have at your disposal to find out what else he knows." Sam scoffed, and turned a mildly amused look on his brother.

"You know, Dean, not everyone needs to use sex as a bargaining tool." Sam said, opening the car door as Dean came to a stop outside the public library. "Some of us can get info from a guy by using this new tool called 'Asking a question'." He walked around and leaned in through the driver's window. "Maybe you should try it sometime, I hear it works well." He said with a wry grin. Dean rolled his eyes, and pushed Sam away from the window. The younger Winchester chuckled as he regained his footing, and turned to head up the front steps of the library.

"So, you'll go out with him?" Dean called from the car. Sam through his hands up in exasperation, and turned, walking up the steps backwards, and shrugged, letting his arms fall to his sides, a smile of resignation on his face.

"Yeah, okay, I'll go out with him, but don't expect any sparks to fly." He said, turning back in the direction of the library and almost tripping on one of the steps. "Your fault." He called over his shoulder, the tone of his voice telling Dean he was joking. The older Winchester chuckled as he turned away from his brother and pulled out away from the sidewalk back out onto the road. A quick trip back to the motel to see if Johnny had arrived for his shift yet. If not, well, it had been a while since he'd seen Mr. and Mrs. Fields, he was sure they'd be happy to see him. Considering one had spent most of the time in a drunken stupor in the bedroom and the other had spent it smoking on the couch the last time Dean had been in town, he suddenly wondered if either of them would actually remember him.

* * *

After consulting the woman at the front desk, Dean learned that Johnny's shift (she didn't actually say what he worked as there, only that he worked there) didn't start until about three o'clock, giving him a couple hours until Johnny got there, so he decided to visit him instead of waiting. 

As he was driving to Johnny's home, however, he caught sight of someone who happened to perk his interest more then the young blonde man, and all thoughts of Johnny vanished from his head as he parked the car by the sidewalk and got out, heading to the light blue mustang parked not far from where Dean had.

"Long time no see." He said as he approached. The young woman he was coming up behind froze.

"Don't take another step." She said, and it was Dean's turn to freeze on the spot, staring at the back of the woman who stood just as tall as he did. "Let's see, it's been a long time since I've heard that voice. Hmmm… Dirty blonde hair, six feet tall, cocky grin, and a bad-ass attitude."

"You remember? I'm touched." Dean said, the aforementioned cocky grin gracing his lips. The redhead spun around as she finished describing him.

"Wow, it has been a long time." She said, taking in his appearance. "You're old." She said with a cocky grin of her own, and Dean's mouth fell open; he was _not_ old. "Close your mouth, you're catching flies." She said, and Dean snapped his mouth shut.

"You… have not changed." Dean said. She reached forward, took hold of the front of his jacket and pulled him into a heated kiss, which lasted (unfortunately, in Dean's opinion) only a few minutes. When she was done, she spun him around and slammed him against her car. Dean had always been amazed by the young woman's strength; she must've spent a lot of time working out or something.

"You haven't either." She said, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "You're still one hell of a kisser." She smiled as she stared at him. Then the moment passed, and she acted like their little exchange had never happened. "May I ask what you're doing here?" She asked, returning the task she'd been doing before he'd approached, which turned out to be painting the scene before them; the river Sam and Dean had driven alongside as they came into town, along with the park, the playground, and anything else of what they saw that would fit on the canvass.

"If I can ask when you took up the brush." Dean answered. Kit looked over her shoulder and cracked a half-smile at him.

"You first." She said.

"Okay, my brother and I are in town on a job." Dean said. "To do with those guys that have been killed over the past few weeks." He added. Kit didn't say anything. "So, have you heard anything?"

"That wasn't your question, which answer do you want first?" Kit asked bluntly, paying more attention to her painting then to Dean.

"Second one first, have you heard anything?" Dean asked. Kit set down the paintbrush again and turned to face Dean.

"Nothing I'm guessing you don't already know." She said. "The cops are being pretty tight lipped about this; won't tell you anything unless you're a member of the victim's family."

"Okay, when did you start painting?" Dean asked, nodding toward the half-finished canvass. Kit shrugged, turning back to it.

"Not long after you left." She said.

"Don't tell me you took me advice to heart?" Dean asked. Kit shrugged again, and Dean frowned. This was not the same person he'd seen two years ago. She was calm, collected, controlled. Where was all the heat? Where was all the sexual desire? And what the hell did Johnny mean by 'Don't get on her bad side'? In two years, Kit had matured into an easy-going young woman.

Then he remembered the kiss they had shared just minutes earlier, and everything fell into place. She was dong exactly what she'd always done; kissing and forgetting. She'd just grown to be a lot more mature about it. When Dean had first met her, and then 'met' her again after their one night stand, she'd started checking him out almost immediately, after both introductions. Now she seemed more interested in her painting.

"You're heading to Mum and Dad's, right?" She asked.

"Er… yeah." Dean said.

"Okay, well, my old room is on the right side at the end of the hall, could you do me a favour and get some of the packages from it and bring them to me?" Dean frowned, and Kit looked over her shoulder at him. "In case my blabbermouth of a younger brother didn't tell you already, I'm not exactly welcome at home anymore."

"He said you moved out, he didn't say you weren't welcome." Dean said. Kit nodded.

"Good, he's learned to keep his mouth shut." She said. "So, about the packages…"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Dean said. "Will you still be here?" He asked.

"Unless the river fades away." Kit said, and with that, she returned to her painting. Dean rolled his eyes. She may have changed maturity-wise, but her attention span hadn't changed much for the better.

"Well, okay, see you later." Dean said. Kit nodded absently, not really paying attention to him anymore. Dean shook his head and turned and waked away, getting back in the impala and driving away from the young woman in the direction of her former home.

It hadn't changed much since he last saw it. In fact, it hadn't changed at all, as far as he could tell. It looked just as much a dump now as it had two years before. And he knew a lot about dumps, having stayed in quite a few himself. With a sigh of exasperation, he got out of the car, locked the doors, and then walked up to the front door. He pressed the doorbell, but all it gave him was a sick spluttering. It had gotten a little better since his last visit; back then, it hadn't made any sound at all.

A stocky man in his late thirties opened the door and glared at Dean. "What?" He demanded.

"Ah, so you don't remember me." Dean said. The older man narrowed his eyes, trying to remember where he'd seen that no-good cocky grin and that gelled up hair before. His eyes widened in recognition all of a sudden, and Dean started to grin. That quickly turned to a concerned frown when he realized that Damon Fields looked even less then he had when he first opened the door.

"Now I recognize you," He said, his tone stating that he was none-to-pleased to see Dean again. "You're that good-for-nothing hooligan what tried to bed my little girl." Dean looked absolutely dumbstruck.

_Me? _Tried_ to bed your 'little girl'. _He thought. _Dude, do you even know your daughter? _In a moment of rarely-seen wisdom, Dean decided saying something like that was not the best way to try and get on the guy's good side.

"Uh… Hi, I'm Dean… Riley." Dean said, offering his hand. The older man glared at it like it was something dirty. Or, more correctly, something dirtier then his house already was. His frown deepening, Dean let his hand fall to his side. "Okay, you know what, I didn't come here for small talk or to be glared at by an ex-drunk who doesn't even take the time to get to know his own kids," So much for trying to get on his good side, "I came here looking for Johnny. Oh, and Kit asked me to pick up some packages from her old room." Damon continued to glare at Dean, but at that moment, a stout woman (_Where the hell did Johnny and Kit inherit their height from? _Dean wondered) walked up to join her husband at the front door.

"I remember you." Abigail Fields stated, regarding Dean the same way Damon had, or was. "You're that sleazy-assed son of a bitch who started my daughter's downward spiral." Dean slouched.

"Yes, we've established that I'm no good and I'm the cause of all your daughter's problems, now will you please tell me where Johnny is?" He snapped. Abigail looked absolutely appalled by the way he spoke to her. "And let me in so I can get whatever it was Kit wanted from her bedroom." He added.

"No, I don't think we will." The older man snapped. "Now, I'm going to give you one minute to get off my property before I-" At that moment, Damon was interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Mum, Dad, this is a friend of mine," Johnny said. "Please let him in." And without waiting for his parents to answer, Johnny reached around them, grabbed a handful of Dean's shirt, and pulled him into the house, past the senior Fields', and down the hall in just a few short seconds. He stopped pulling when they got to the end of the hall. Dean glanced of his shoulder and saw that Abigail and Damon were standing there, more then a little aghast, as they stared at their son.

"You really have a way with people." Johnny said, rolling his eyes and leading Dean into the room they were at. Dean took one last look at Abigail and Damon (both of whom looked like they were going to burst a blood vessel), before following Johnny into the room.

His first words as he entered the room were "Holy shit." As he saw that every square inch of the wall was taken up by pieces of canvass, each and every one with some type of painting. Some were portraits, some were scenes, some were just messes of colours put together. Dean turned in a circled to look at all the paintings, speechless, absolutely stunned by the skill the young woman possessed.

"Kit's room." Johnny said, noticing Dean's sudden awe. Dean shook himself; it wasn't often that he lost himself like that. But all these paintings, the portraits in particular… wait a minute.

"How did she do that?" He said, pointing to one portrait in particular. "She said she didn't start painting until after I left." He was pointing to a portrait of himself, grinning back at him with that same cocky grin everyone liked to comment on.

"Photographic memory." Johnny said. Dean glanced at Johnny, disbelief on his face. Johnny nodded, and Dean looked back at the portrait of himself.

"That girl is just full of unused talents." Dean muttered. "I take it these are the packages she wanted?" He said, noticing some package wrapped up in plain brown paper. Johnny nodded, and the two men walked over and picked up the packages, and took them out to the car (thankfully, Abigail and Damon had vacated the door by now, so Dean and Johnny didn't meet any resistance).

"You should probably get going before Mum and Dad call the lynch mob." Johnny said with a grin. Dean chuckled and nodded.

"Yeah, that's probably not a bad idea." He said. "He closed the back door of the car and walked around to the drivers side and was about to climb in when he remembered the other reason he'd come. He looked up and saw Johnny staring hopefully at him, like the younger man already knew what Dean was about to say. "Sam's going to be waiting for you at that nice little restaurant down the road from the motel tonight." He said, and was pleased to see the Johnny's lips break into a smile. "Talk to ya later." Dean said, and climbed into his car. He took one last look at Johnny, and then drove away, heading in the direction of the library.

* * *

**A/N: And that's the end of that chapter. I was exceptionally tired both when I started this chapter and when I finished it. Even so, I'm hoping it turned out okay. Hope y'all enjoyed it, reviews have this strange way of making the updates faster. Hint hint, nudge nudge.**


	4. Dreams and Dates

**Twisted Love**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Author's Note: **Beta'd by mysterichic. Big thank you's to you for making sure this was alright to be posted.

**Review Answers**:

_Spuffyshipper_ – Glad you liked it. He likes women as well as men, and he's a little out of practice with men. At least, that's how it is in this story. Wow, now I'm even more determined to write those stories, lol. Eye of the Storm, Arrival and Something More are all in the works (how long it'll take them to get it out of them, well, that's another story), so keep an eye out.

_talon81 _– Good, good, the compliments keep the writing coming. This soon enough for you?

_puplover77_ – I'm not going to be able to fit my head through the door if everyone keeps complimenting my work like this, lol. I'm happy you think so well of this story. In answer to your other question, well, I've started writing chapter one. Who knows, I might get lucky and have it up soon.

_JRAismine_ – Good to hear it. And I know what you mean… I certainly prefer OMC's over OFC's. Trouble is, there's only three or four others on the site (and the two Sam ones I find were supposedly really dark, so I didn't even read them). Partly why I was so determined to write this one.

_Fractured Dreams_ – Ah, yes, the date. It'll be in this chapter, let me know what you think of it. I guess you'll just have to read on and find out.

_Rose of No Man's Land_ – I like you. You keep giving me long reviews that I enjoy reading, lol. Yes, a date between my favourite character and my fictional character. Is it pathetic to be jealous of a non-existent person I've created, lol? Yes, she is a little scattered… And I was trying to make their parents as, well… un-parent-like as possible. Creeping out the readers counts as un-parent-like in my book, thank you for making me a success. I'm glad you're so pleased with my writing. If you'll just scroll down a little ways now, you can have more of it.

_Rosalene_ – Hmmm, didn't think of that, lol. But technically, it's the other way around; Johnny's the one who's attracted to Sam. But I'll keep that in mind, they do seem to have a tendency to lay blame at the feet of others' for their children's faults.

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Chapter 4: Dreams and Dates

When it came to demons and spirits and the like, and seemed there was no better place to research then the Newbridge Falls' Library. Sam had found more information on succubae and incubi since he arrived there then he had in the last eighteen years.

And the more he learned, the more convinced he became it was a succubus that was killing all these men. Not that he needed much convincing to begin with.

He gave a startled jerk when he heard his mobile go off, shattering the silence of the old library. He received a few disapproving looks from some of the others readers, which prompted him to answer his phone before they got out the torches and pitchforks.

"You trying to get me killed?" Sam demanded.

"_Huh?_" Was Dean's intelligent response.

"Many of my fellow readers now have murder in their eyes… so does the librarian." He shivered and turned his back to them (maybe not the smartest thing to do if his joke turned out to be the truth). "What do you want?" He asked.

"_Guess who's got a date tonight._" Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Dean, we've been in town less then twenty-four hours and you've already sweet-talked some poor idiotic girl into having sex with-"

"_No, dumbass,_" Dean said, cutting of Sam's accusations. "_You, remember? Johnny, six-foot-one, blond hair, wears lots of flannel shirts. You know, the guy who blurted out that you were cute._"

"Oh." Sam said, falling back into his seat.

"_And listen, I think it might be a good idea to keep him away from any… suspicious females tonight._" Dean said. "_If the patterns follow, then tonight's the night when the succubus is going to kill again. And I don't think we want Johnny to be added to her list of victims, do we?_"

"No." Sam said neutrally, still in shock from the whole date concept. Time to ask the question he'd been dreading since Dean had suggested he go out with Johnny. "Where do I meet him?" He asked. His lack of enthusiasm must've seeped into his voice, because the next thing he knew,

"_Jeez, Sam, it's a date, not a funeral. Try to sound excited._" He said.

"Yeah, okay, whatever." Sam said. "Hey, I found out a lot about succubae. Did you know that there a different types of them. Like, there are the normal ones, the ones Dad taught us about. But there are also people who willingly forsake their human soul to a demon and can become a succubus. And there are some that are sired by-"

"_Wait, sired? What, you mean like a vampire?_" Dean asked.

"Yeah, something like that." Sam said. "Let's hope this isn't the case though; it says that a succubus can only be sired if it's already been… well, you know." Sam said.

"_Sam, we're not kids anymore, we're allowed to talk about sex._" Dean said.

"Yeah, well, you're missing the point." Sam said. "If that's the case, that would mean that succubus you and Dad killed probably had a mate."

"_So that would mean an incubus _and_ a succubus to kill._"

"Exactly." Sam said.

"_Okay, then let's just keep our fingers crossed and hope that it's just another succubus that's moved in on someone else's turf._" Dean said. "_I'll be there in ten to pick you up. Then we can take you back to the motel and get you all dressed up for your date._"

"Bite me." Sam said, and then cut the connection before Dean could respond. He slipped the mobile back into his pocket and looked over his shoulder. Everyone who had been giving him filthy looks when he'd first answered the phone were now acting like he wasn't there at all. He wasn't sure if he should count that as a blessing or an insult.

He returned the books to the proper place, and then exited the library to wait for Dean. He was not disappointed as about five minutes later, Dean arrived, looking more then a little pleased with himself.

"Did I miss something?" Sam asked. Dean just continued to grin.

"Get in." He said. Sam figured he wasn't going to be getting any answers out of his brother, so he just walked around to the passenger door and climbed in.

* * *

They drove back to the motel in silence, and Dean waited until they got in to pump Sam for everything he'd learned on succubae during his time at the library. 

"Well, our theory on how to kill them is more or less in tact." Sam said. "There is another way to kill a succubus, but I recommend sticking with the flaming death idea."

"Why?" Dean asked as he started to undress. In front of Sam. Not a care in the world. He made sure the curtains were closed, but he didn't seem bothered with his brother seeing his naked body. The younger Winchester tried to ignore his brother's lack of modesty and continued his explanation.

"Because, the other way involves depriving the succubus of any intimate contact whatsoever for several weeks," he explained, "She will, and I quote, 'eventually go mad before burning up completely'. I say we skip madness and go straight for the burning- oh god, Dean, take it into the bathroom!" He said.

Dean looked at his brother, and then suddenly became aware that he had almost stripped down to nothing. As much as he wasn't bothered with his brother seeing him naked (it wasn't like they hadn't seen each other when they were younger), he'd forgotten that Sam felt a lot different about personal modesty since going away to college. So he acquiesced to his brother's wished and picked up his change of clothes and went into the bathroom before he finished undressing, and then got in the shower.

Sam was just trying to figure out what to wear when he went out to meet Johnny. So what if he was reluctant to go out with the younger man. He could at least put in the effort to look presentable. He was just laying some clothes out on the bed when he heard the shower start, and turned a confused look in the direction of the bathroom.

"Hey Dean, didn't you have a shower this morning?" He called. No answer. "Dean?" He called again, walking over to the bathroom door.

"Sam, get in here!" His brother's voice was urgent, and Sam kicked the door open when he realized Dean had locked it.

"Dean?" He said softly. The room was filled with a thick layer of steam that made it difficult to see (how so much steam had accumulated in such a short amount of time, Sam hadn't even begun to wonder).

"Sam…" That wasn't Dean's voice. "Don't be afraid." The voice was calming. Soothing. Sam felt himself relaxing, his body acting on it's own as he moved slowly towards the shower.

"Sam!" His eyes snapped open and he sat up straight, looking around. He took in a long, shaky breath when he realized Dean had just parked the car in the motel parking lot. He looked over and saw his brother was watching him with a concerned look his face.

"You okay?" Dean asked. "Was it a… uh…?"

"No." Sam said, saving his brother the problem of admitting that Sam was having visions. "Just a dream… I guess I still haven't caught up on the sleep I missed when we were waiting up for the shtriga." He said with a shrug. Dean was by no means convinced, but he decided to let it go for now. Sam had his secrets that needed to be kept, just like Dean did.

"So, would you like to tell me what it is you learned about succubae this morning?" Dean asked. Sam looked over his shoulder, bit his lip, and shook his head.

"Later, I need to… uh… I need to take a shower." He said. Dean gave him a questioning look, but he just shrugged. With a sigh of resignation, Dean nodded. It wasn't like Sam actually needed his brother's permission to take a shower. He just wouldn't enjoy scolding his skin with the hot water as much if his brother was badgering him with questions through the bathroom door (or worse, from actually inside the bathroom).

He breathed a sigh of relief as the remnants of the dream were washed away by the hot water, feeling a strange sense of pleasure from the near-scolding water against his skin. And a slight feeling of light-headedness as well.

That feeling was shattered when he felt arms snaking beneath his own to wrap around his chest. He spun around, and saw nothing. His gaze darted around the inside of the shower, like someone could somehow avoid being seen by him in the enclosed space.

Feeling a lot less relaxed then he had seconds earlier, Sam cut his shower short, climbing out and pulling a towel from the rack, pulling it around his shoulders as he shivered, not just from the cold, but from the slightly unfounded feeling that there was someone else in the bathroom with him. He gave himself a shake. He was being foolish, that's what John would say. That's probably what Dean would say as well. He dried himself off, and then pulled on a green hooded sweater over plain grey shirt, and then a pair of old jeans.

He walked out of the bathroom and saw Dean scrutinizing something he'd laid out on the bed, and Sam walked up behind him and glanced at it.

It turned out to be a medium-sized piece of canvass, with a portrait of Dean painted on it. The likeness was uncanny, almost as if someone had taken a photo and then touched it up to make it look painted.

"Who's the artist?" He asked, and caught Deans' elbow as it came back to deliver a crippling blow to his gut. It was a reflex the older Winchester had had since he was twelve and a bunch of seventh graders crept up behind him on Halloween. "Chill, dude, it's me." Sam said. Dean glanced over his shoulder and scowled, pulling his arm out of Sam's grip.

"Sam, you no better then to sneak up on me like that." He growled, and then turned back to the portrait, and Sam suddenly wondered if his brother was trying to find something wrong with it.

"I repeat: Who's the artist?" He said.

"Johnny's sister." Dean said. Sam nodded, and turned away, walking over to the kitchen part of the room where he set about fixing himself some coffee to try and make ignoring the fact that he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in two days now. It was nothing new to him, but it never got easier. If anything, the more he skipped out on sleeping, the harder it was the next time. "The girl has talent, I'll give her that much." Dean continued, still trying to find something wrong with the painting. Sam nodded absently as he began to scoop the coffee out of the jar. He grimaced suddenly when he felt a familiar throbbing at his temples.

He dropped the spoon, not really hearing it clatter against the floor. He groaned, and with a sharp intake of breath, pushed himself back from the bench to avoid cracking his skull on it when he inevitably fell to his knees, his fingers digging into his temples, like he was trying to drill the pain out.

Dean had spun around at the sound of the spoon hitting the floor, just in time to see Sam crashing to the floor a little way back from the bench.

"Sam!" He cried, rushing to his brother's side. Sam didn't see him. His hands fell from his temples, pressing flat against the floor, and with a cry of pain, a blinding white light filled the younger Winchester's vision.

_**It moved as if it wasn't there. No one would see it. No one would remember it… Quiet and quick as death it moved about the small, dank room, towards the bed at the very back… Johnny fell back against the bed, head lying on the pillows, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the figure standing over him…**_

"Argh!" Sam cried out in pain as he fell backwards. Dean was there and ready, catching Sam before the younger man cracked his head against the end of the bed behind him. He helped Sam to his feet and then to the bed where the younger Winchester sat down, rubbing his temples again.

"Was it a…?" Dean let the question hang. Sam nodded, still grimacing in pain. "What… what did you see?" He asked.

"Uh… I'm… I'm not exactly sure. Flashes, mostly. There was something… dark. And sad, I think." He tried to remember. "And Johnny!" He exclaimed. "I think it- the thing I saw- I think it was attacking him." He looked helplessly at Dean. The older Winchester frowned, getting to his feet, biting his lower lip as he tried to think what to make of it. As much as he disliked planning his hunts via a supernatural tip, if Johnny was going to be attacked…

"Okay, we stake him out, and when it shows up to… no, wait, better idea, you don't leave his side." He said.

"What?" Sam asked, his mind still too scattered to make sense of what his brother was talking about.

"Tonight." Dean said. "You're going to meet him at the restaurant, and you're going to make sure he's not alone in a room until the night is over." Sam blinked.

"You still want me to go on a date when something could possibly kill again tonight?" He asked in disbelief.

"Normally, no." Dean said, and Sam became aware of just how serious Dean had become. "But the fact that the victim happens to be your date kind of makes it fit." He said, and it was obvious Sam had no chance at arguing. The younger man sighed in resignation and got to his feet. "Sam, I repeat, you're going on a date, not your brother's funeral." Hecould've kicked himself for saying it that way. Sam had not been too fond of his death jokes since his brush with death a couple of months earlier, and it was still painfully obvious his brother had not quite gotten over it yet.

With a sigh, Sam got his feet. Dean was right; it wasn't so bad, going out on a date. Only, he hadn't been on anything that could be classified as a date since before Jess had died. Because he'd been afraid to. Afraid of what might happen if he showed interest in anyone.

Truth be told, he still was.

* * *

Dean had told Sam that Johnny was expecting him at the restaurant. What Sam didn't understand was why he didn't just meet Johnny at the motel main office, considering he worked there. But Dean had insisted that it be a proper date with them meeting at the restaurant, even though Sam argued a proper date would have Johnny picking him up (since Johnny was the one who made the first move). 

So there he was, standing out the front of the restaurant, doing up the front of his jacket in an attempt to keep out the cold wind that had suddenly picked up. A moment later, he pulled the hood of his sweater up over his head, shocked by the intensity of the cold, and coming to the decision that if Johnny didn't get there within the next ten minutes, he was going back to the motel, succubus or no succubus.

As it was, Dean didn't have to be disappointed in him, because Johnny chose that moment to walk up to him. He was wearing a pair of warm black trousers and a blue quilted shirt, having anticipated the change in temperature. Sam gave him a good-natured grin, which Johnny returned whole-heartedly.

"I'm glad you came." Johnny said. "I was worried you might think it too, er, strange, that I told your brother that, er…" His cheeks flushed, and Sam couldn't suppress a grin. The younger man was acting just like he had on his first date. Sam suddenly wondered if this _was_ Johnny's first date. It seemed unlikely; he was an attractive young man, Sam was sure he'd have had plenty of offers in high school.

"Why don't we go in?" Sam suggested. Johnny's smile returned and he nodded. He walked ahead of Sam so that he could hold the door open for him, and Sam's grin got wider as he began to question his reluctance to get back into dating. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

They found a table (Johnny wanted one near the back of the restaurant, so that they could have some privacy), and ordered their meal, and then sat in awkward silence for a few minutes while waiting for it to arrive. Finally, Sam could stand it no longer and asked the first thing that popped into his head.

"Do you really think I'm cute?" He asked. Johnny's blush reached his ears this time and he looked like he wanted to just melt into the chair. He gave a stiff nod, and, feeling a little sorry for the guy, Sam smiled at him.

"Nobody's called me cute since ninth grade." He said, and Johnny frowned, obviously not sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or worse. He seemed to take the smile as a confirmation Sam was trying to lessen his embarrassment, and returned it.

"I… er, I haven't said that to anybody, or about anybody." Johnny said. Sam blinked surprised. He thought girls… guys, he corrected, would be lining up to go out with Johnny. Well, then again, just because he hadn't called anyone cute didn't necessarily mean he hadn't been out on a date.

More awkward silence followed. Sam wondered what was taking their dinner so long. This time it was Johnny who broke the silence.

"Did you want to… do this?" He asked. "Like, did you actually want to… have dinner with me, or… it's just, the way Dean told me… it didn't seem like he gave you… well, I just had to ask." Sam would've smiled at Johnny's inability to finish a sentence if the question hadn't immediately set him thinking on what to say. The seriousness seemed to leak into his facial expression, because Johnny shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked a little worried.

With a deep breath, Sam decided on the truth. "No." He said simply. "I didn't want to go out with you." Johnny's head sagged forward in a cross between a nod of acceptance and resignation. "You see, a few months ago, I… lost someone, and… we were close." He bit his lip. Johnny was looking at him now, and he wasn't sure if he should continue. "I haven't really… well, wanted to go out with anybody since her."

"Her?" Johnny asked. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I haven't dated men since I… let's see… I was sixteen the last time I even thought about another guy that way." He said. "Don't get me wrong, I can go both ways, but…" He trailed off, not really wanting to finish that sentence. He was saved the awkwardness of avoiding it by the timely arrival of their dinner. He glanced at Johnny, who still seemed a little on edge. Sam gave a small sigh. "Okay, it's true that when Dean first told me you thought I was cute, I didn't even want to think about it. And, yes, I was reluctant to even come here tonight…" Johnny looked down at his plate. "Hey." Sam said, reaching over and tilting the younger man's chin up so that he was looking him in the eyes. "I honestly don't know what to expect to come out of this, or that anything _will _come out of it, but I _am_ happy to be here." He smiled. "I'm happy to be here with _you_." Johnny looked doubtful for a minute, and then the beginnings of a smile started at the corner of his lips.

They ate their dinner in silence, though it wasn't as awkward as it had been. When dinner was finished, they discussed various subjects, including the differences between dating guys and girls, how annoying older siblings could be, whether they were guy or girl. Try as he might, though, Sam couldn't bring himself to spoil the evening by asking Johnny what he knew about the deaths that had plagued the town as of late. Despite his original misgivings about the dinner, he found he was actually enjoying sharing the company of another man who wasn't his brother (though he was still having a hard time thinking of Johnny as a man; he still looked awfully boyish).

By the time dessert came, Sam was really starting to enjoy himself, really happy for the first time since Jess had died (not counting those brief moments with Lori back in Iowa).

When they finally had to leave the restaurant (it was closing up early that night, of all night), Sam and Johnny walked back to the motel room. Sam insisted they go back there for two reasons: one, because as long as he was near Johnny, the younger man stood some chance of not coming up against the succubus, and two, he was really beginning to enjoy being with Johnny.

When they got back to the motel, Sam was relieved to see Dean had vacated the premises. He and Johnny talked some more, the subjects getting more and more random as time passed. At ten thirty, however, Johnny started to get uneasy, and at quarter to eleven he said he had to go or his mother would start getting worried.

Sam walked Johnny out to his car, and the younger man was just about to open the driver door when he stopped, and turned to face Sam. "Can I kiss you?" He asked tentatively. Sam blinked, surprised. Most people, if they wanted to kiss him, just didn't. They didn't ask. Maybe he really was Johnny's first date.

Johnny seemed to misinterpret Sam's silence for rejection, because he once again looked terribly embarrassed and, this time, a little hurt. He turned around to get into his car, but Sam broke through his surprise and reached out, seizing the younger man by the arm. Johnny turned back to look at him and Sam planted his lips on Johnny's, wrapping one arm around the younger man's waist, and placing the other hand on the back of his head.

* * *

When they finally parted, it became obvious that that one kiss had opened a door that neither of them was in any hurry to close again. Taking Johnny by the hand (and feeling like he was fifteen again) he led him back into the motel room, locking the door behind them. 

They took it slowly, first shedding their jackets and shirts, helping each other, lips brushing every so often. Then they removed their pants, which took just as long, especially considering their lips didn't have to part to do it, so they kept becoming distracted.

One thing about their kiss, the way they were holding each other, even the way they were undressing each other; there was nothing sexual about it, no heat or fiery passion. It was intimacy in its simplest form, and beautiful in its simplicity for both of them. It was like the warmth of the sun without the burn or glare.

It became clear that, despite his earlier attempt at departure, Johnny had no intention of leaving.

When they were finally completely naked, Sam guided Johnny to the bed, pulled back the covers, and climbed in. Johnny joined him, and Sam wrapped his arms around him, kissing him gently on the lips, and then moving, caressing the side of his neck, his shoulder, while Johnny's hands brushed Sam's back and the back of his head and neck, carefully, lovingly.

When their love finally came to a slow close again, Sam pulled Johnny into a one-armed, sidelong hug, letting him rest his head on Sam's shoulder as he drifted off into an easy-going sleep, a small smile on his lips.

Sam had a smile of his own as he pulled the blankets tighter around their naked bodies; if he'd known how cold it got, he would've taken blankets form the bed Dean would've been sleeping in, if he was there. As it was, he hadn't been thinking very far ahead that afternoon, and he was much too comfortable with Johnny sleeping against him to try and get some now. So he settled for pulling the younger man closer and snuggling up against him, with the blanket held tightly around them. His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was of how unbelievably quick he had fallen for the young man held against his body.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, I have finally managed to finish Chapter 4. I wanted to have a little more descriptive… er… lacking the right word, but I wanted to spend a little more time between Sam and Johnny being undressed and Sam and Johnny falling asleep, if you know what I mean. But I found myself completely unable towrite a halfway betweenlove and sex. That, and I didn't want to tarnish the intimacy with sexual heat. Hope its okay. Please review and let me know, it'll make me a very happy writer and might speed up the updates. Emphasis on might, though. 


	5. Complications

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. She's so good to me. Big thankyous.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Review Answers**:

_Rose of No Man's Land_ – Yeah, I was hoping that'd be received that way, lol. It totally seemed like the kind of thing he'd do. Even if that did turn out to be a sort of dream thing. Yeah, Sam's visions are cool, but they're hard to write, which is why there aren't many when it comes to my stories.  
Lol, another good reaction. Yes, I managed to write the date. And I'm glad you, er… I don't know if the correct word is liked, or loved… anyway, I'm glad you feel _that way_ about the kiss, I wanted to make it as beautiful as possible without it being to guy/girl-ish. Good, that's exactly what I was hoping for. I'm not sure what you mean by you felt the intimacy. Hmmm… maybe I don't want to know, lol. Although that would certainly make me a good writer. Yeah, I update as fast as my ten fingers can write 'em (and you should see those little buggers go, they're like blurs on the keyboard right now).  
Now, if you'll please step this way, you can read chapter five of this wonderful story. (And PS: Long reviews are my friend, so keep it up if you can – oh, that sort of rhymes).

_puplover77_ – Lol, that's an interesting way to start a review. I'm glad this story is being received so well. And I'm glad you followed me from the other one, because I like long reviews, and your review is long, so that makes me happy. Hmmm, an interesting scenario you've thought up there. It would be funny. Read on and see if anything happens. Yes, I'll keep writing as long as you keep reviewing (no, I lie, I'll keep writing whether you review or not).

_Rosalene_ – Glad you think so. This soon enough?

_Spuffyshipper_ – It was a good chapter, wasn't it? Well, now that's a question I'm sure Sam has found himself wondering many times. I wonder if this time will be any exception. You'll just have to read on and find out.

_talon81_ – Ah, so many people have been saying that, but it still thrills me each time. Yes, it was written well was it. One day I'll figure out how to tame one's own ego. Until then, I'm gonna keep lapping up all this compliments I'm getting. Thanks for reviewing.

_Sammy girl at heart _– Thanks. Maybe next time a little longer review? Pretty please?

_eddy6401_ – Thanks, glad you like it. I'll keep going as long as I can think of stuff to put in it.

Now, without further adew, on with the story ladies and gentleman. Please take your seats and strap in, because it's going to be a bumpy ride.

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* * *

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Chapter 5: Complications

Sam smiled as he slowly opened his eyes. The sunlight was trying to shine through the curtains, filling the room with a faint glow that allowed Sam to just make out shapes in the room. He turned to his right, thinking about maybe kissing Johnny good morning.

Except he wasn't there. Sam felt his breath catch in his throat. "Johnny?" He gasped. "Johnny!" He repeated, louder this time, and got to his feet (ignoring the fact that he was still completely naked), and tried to listen for any sound that would tell him where the younger man could've gotten so quickly.

Before he could take another step, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending a cold chill down his spine. A second hand clasped onto his throat and pulled him back a step, and he felt someone lean forward so that their lips were equal with his ear. "You're all alone now." And it spun him around to face it-

Sam's eyes snapped open just before he saw it's face, and with a sharp intake of breath, he sat bolt upright, panic rising in the pit of his stomach. He glanced to his right, and almost leapt from the bed in shock; Johnny wasn't there.

"Johnny?" He called, choosing to stay in bed. "Johnny!" He repeated, and a second later he heard the sound of the toilet flushing, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the young man come out the bathroom, his dark blond hair a little dishevelled, but a pleased smile on his face, though barely visible in the early morning light.

"'Morning." He said, getting onto the end of the bed and crawling up to Sam, and then sliding back under the covers (both of them were still very much naked, and it was cold still, what with the sun not fully up yet). He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned up and kissed Sam softly on the lips. Sam smiled through the kiss and returned it. "You sounded worried." He said when he finally pulled back.

"I woke up and you weren't here." Sam said. "I thought it was a dream." He didn't say specifically what it was he thought was a dream. Johnny seemed to think he meant last night, and Sam was in no hurry to correct him.

As if to reassure him that he was there, Johnny wrapped his arms around Sam's torso and pulled him into warm hug, which Sam returned, holding the younger man against his body, welcoming the reassurance.

Their hug was interrupted when the door swung open and Dean walked in. Sam looked over Johnny's shoulder with a horrified look, and Dean took in the scene before him. Johnny looked over as well, completely in shock at being caught- Sam's mind momentarily wandered when he felt Johnny's hand move south down his back.

"Oh, shit, sorry." Dean gasped out. He about-faced and walked (at a barely-contained run) back out again. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pulled back, his hands now on Johnny's shoulders as he smiled at the young man.

"Now aren't you glad you let Dean talk you into meeting me." Johnny said. Sam laughed, and then answered him with another warm kiss on the lips, which Johnny returned whole-heartedly.

"Yeah." Was all Sam managed.

After a few more minutes of tender kisses, Johnny finally pulled back. "I'm going to take a shower." He said with a grin. Sam smiled, and Johnny's grin became a bit mischievous. "Wanna join me?" He asked. Sam laughed, but shook his head.

"Maybe some other time." He said. "Right now I think I'll just lay here and remember last night for a while." He said, resting his hands under his head as he laid back against the pillows. Johnny continued to grin, only mildly disappoint, and walked into the bathroom to take a shower, picking up his clothes as he did so. Sam closed his eyes when he heard the shower come on, content to listen to the running water and imagine it all pouring over Johnny's naked body, and momentarily regretting declining his offer to join him.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the motel door was kicked open and four cops, guns at the ready, burst into the room, followed closely by Detective Foel.

"Hands in the air." One of the cops said. Reluctantly, Sam raised his hands, wondering what he could've done wrong. Well, pretending to be a detective probably topped the list.

Foel walked over towards him, taking out a pair of handcuffs. Sam's eyes widened and he jumped back, rolling off the bed and onto the floor, out of reach of the bullets a nervous cop had fired when Sam had moved.

"You are under arrest for impersonating an officer of the law, and under suspicion of several murders. Do you want to add resisting arrest to that?" Foel said, standing on the other side of the bed. Sam considered his options, while at the same time he tried to figure out how he'd suddenly become a prime suspect for the murders.

"Pass me my pants." He said, not willing to lift his head above the bed for fear one of the cops would get nervous again and this time shoot him point blank.

"What?" Foel asked, looking around.

"Well, I'm not going with you completely naked." He said. Foel seemed to notice the clothing strewn about the room, reached down and picked up Sam's jeans, quickly checked to make sure there were no weapons of any sort hidden anywhere, and then tossed them over the bed to Sam, who quickly pulled them on and climbed slowly to his feet, hands in the air. Foel walked around and pulled Sam's hands down, clicking the handcuffs into place on his wrists.

"Sam?" He looked over and saw Johnny standing in the bathroom doorway, fully dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.

"Who are you?" Detective Foel asked, one hand on his gun, the other holding Sam by one arm. Johnny glanced at the sidearm at the man's waist.

"Johnny," he said tentatively. "Johnny Fields." Foel relaxed his grip on the gun, but his grip seemed to tighten on Sam's arm.

"You should consider yourself lucky," He said. "This man is a suspect in regards to a number of murders that have taken place recently. If your mother hadn't phoned the police last night and told us you hadn't come home, you might have been killed." Johnny didn't say anything. He glanced at Sam, who tried to shake his head, tried to tell Johnny that it wasn't true. Johnny gave the faintest of nods, and Sam could see in his eyes that he didn't believe that Sam had killed people, or that he would have killed him if the cops hadn't arrived. "Tell you what, why don't you go home, let your family know you're okay, and drop by the station later to make a statement, okay?" Johnny nodded slowly. He took one last look a Sam, and then walked past them, putting as much space between himself and Foel as he could, though to Foel it would've seemed like he was trying to stay away from Sam.

"You know, I don't think I really like the idea of being interrogated without a shirt on." Sam said. Foel ignored him, pushing him towards the door. Sam was torn between worrying about his situation and being annoyed that the detective didn't show him enough consideration to let him get properly dressed before arresting him. He settled for worry by the time he reached the police car and was shoved into the back. So he was a suspect for murder, did they have to be so rough?

The drive to the police station was made in silence, with Sam feeling more uncomfortable by the minute about not having his shirt on. He kept looking at Detective Foel who was seating on the back seat beside him. He found himself wondering about Dean. Had Foel managed to track him down as well, or had he gotten wind of what was happening or gotten away? Sam seriously hoped it was the latter, because he wasn't sure how he was going to get past this small complication otherwise.

He was given the chance to get of the car himself, which he quickly took, not wanting to be touched by them any more then was absolutely necessary.

He was taken straight to an interview room, where Foel told him to take a seat, and then left him there. As soon as he was sure he was alone, he got to his feet. He glanced at the mirror-like part of the wall to his left, knowing full well that from the other side it was a window, and that anyone looking through it would be able to see him clear as day. So he turned so he was facing the mirror and backed away from it 'til he came to a corner, and then he started working to get one of his hands into the back pocket of his jeans. He was relieved to find he had a paper clip tucked in at the very bottom, completely inconspicuous unless you were specifically looking for it, and Foel had only been looking for weapons that might be hidden that morning. Knowing it'd be suspicious if he went and sat back down, he slowly lowered himself to the ground, and leaning against the wall since his arms weren't much support during his descent. Before he knew it, his head had sunk against the wall and he was drifting off into a light sleep.

"Sam…" That voice again. It made him feel relaxed, like he had with Jess. At home. Like he belonged somewhere. He felt someone touch his cheek, but didn't open his eyes. He was afraid if he opened his eyes, the feeling would end. "Sam… Be in me, Sam. Fill me." He felt lips brush his own. He had to know. He had to see who-

His eyes opened with the door, and he looked up to see Foel coming back into the room. He did his best not to glare; he was only doing his job after all, and pretending to be a detective in a town where people were getting murdered was a little suspicious. But still, the way he'd been treated so far…

"On your feet." Foel said. When Sam struggled, the older man took pity on him (not much though), took him by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Over on the chair." He said, giving Sam a light shover the direction of the chair. Sam staggered before regaining his balance, and sat down on the chair on the other side of the table, hands still held behind his back.

"Mind explaining what you're doing in town shortly after a series of murders, posing as a detective?" He asked. "And what you were doing with that young man back at the motel."

"That's none of your business." Sam snapped before he could stop himself. The detective sitting across from him raised an eyebrow. Sam snapped his mouth shut and refused to look at the man.

"Okay, why don't we talk about your partner?" Sam couldn't stop himself from looking up when he said that. "Do you know where I went while you were… taking your little nap?" Sam couldn't help himself. He shook his head. Foel leaned forward. "We've already got him. If you tell me what the two of you are up to, I can… reassign the blame, so to speak. Your name would never come up in the report."

Sam leaned forward, n arrowing his eyes at the man as he spoke, taking in the way he positioned himself, the way he moved as he spoke, even the tone of his voice. When Foel finished speaking, Sam leaned back against his chair and stared at him for a minute before speaking.

"You're lying." He stated. Foel blinked.

"No, if you tell me what you two were doing, I can-"

"You don't have him." Sam interrupted. He smiled. "And I'm not entirely convinced I wouldn't get the blame either, even though, for the record, I had nothing to do with those murders." Foel narrowed his eyes at the young man. He was so sure of himself. It was like he was playing a game, and suddenly something had happened to tip it in the younger man's favour. Judging by the unconcerned look on his face (which hadn't been there moments earlier), Sam knew that as well. He had every confidence that his partner was still safe.

Foel was about to say something else when another cop opened the door.

"We got a 911 call, hold up down at Hilda's café." The cop said. Foel groaned and got to his feet, looking annoyed.

"Okay, put him in the cell." He said. He glanced at Sam. "We'll finish this conversation later." The cop came over and helped Sam to his feet (Sam was pleased to see that the woman was a lot easier on him then the others had been). She led him out of the room and down the hall to where the cells were. Sam was relieved to see a shirt had been dropped onto the floor of the cell. It wasn't his, but at least he would have something to cover up his exposed torso.

Sam willingly walked into the cell, and the female cop pulled the door shut behind him.

"Turn around." She said. Sam gave her confused look. "I'm going to take off the cuffs." Nodding, Sam turned and held his hands out to her. She reached in through the bars and unlocked the handcuffs, and Sam immediately pulled his hands around in front of him, rolling his shoulders and working all the knots out of the muscles. When he turned back around, he was alone. He tried to look out through the bars, but he couldn't see very far, so he wasn't sure how many cops had left for the hold up. He momentarily wondered if Dean had been the one to call in the 911 call.

Then he took the paperclip out of his back pocket and set to work on the lock on the cell door. It didn't take long, having been an accomplished lock-picker since aged twelve (he'd had to, that was the age when Dean start hand cuffing him to various objects around the house so that he could choose what they watched on TV).

With a satisfying click, the cell door unlocked. Sam slid it open as quietly as possible, and crept out of the cell. He glanced up and down the hall, and then headed towards the main office.

He took a quick look around the corner; there was only one cop on duty, a young man who looked like he might've been a little younger then Sam.

With the stealth a hunter at hid disposal, it wasn't hard for Sam to creep up behind the young cop. The fact that he was deeply immersed in paperwork helped as well. Before he even realized Sam was out of his cell, he was unconscious on the floor.

"Great, Sam. Wanted for impersonating a police officer, suspect in a murder investigation, and now assault." He berated himself. He grabbed a pair of gloves off the desk and pulled them on over his hands; he couldn't be too careful with fingerprints. Dean would call him paranoid, but he could afford to be paranoid; he'd just been arrested.

He dragged the cop down the hall, and then went back to the office, and grabbed a pair of hand cuffs. He put the cop's arms through the cell bars and then went inside and snapped the cuffs on him.

Sam went into the evidence room next. Maybe he shouldn't have wasted his time, but he couldn't let the cops find out who he and Dean really were. It didn't take him long. Thankfully, none of the stuff found at the motel had been catalogued yet. He grabbed his wallet, took anything else that might point directly to he or Dean, and then quickly wiped what was left with his shirt so that they weren't covered in fingerprints.

With that done, he stripped off the gloves, scrunched them up and dumped shoved them in his pocket to be dumped at a later time, and then walked inconspicuously out the front door of the police station, acting like he hadn't just been arrested. Glancing up and down the street, he decided going back to the motel would not be a smart move. So instead, he went in search of a phone booth that he could ring Dean from. Their job had just become a lot harder.

* * *

**A/N: And another chapter is finished. It may take a little longer for the next one. I write best on weekends. Weekdays are harder for some reason. Anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think, I know there are lots of you who are reading and not reviewing, because you've put this story on alert and/or under your favourites. I'm not pressuring you to review, but it'd be nice to hear your opinion on this story. Please?**


	6. That Vision Thing

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Author's Note**: Don't know if it's worth mentioning, but the idea for this chapter title came from the name of an episode of Angel.

**Review Answers**:

_Spuffyshipper_ – Yeah, poor Sam, he always seems to be the one that gets in trouble. I think I'm going to have to do something about that (evil grin). Hmmm… I honestly don't know who made the phone call. For all anyone knows (me included) it could've been legit.

_Rosalene_ – I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much. I'm also glad that it doesn't seem like I rushed Sam and Johnny's relationship. Yes, that was funny, you have puplover77 to thank for that, because it sure wasn't my idea. The cops were my own though. I wanted Sam to get arrested (as I hinted to when Foel ordered the constable to check up on the backgrounds of Dean 'Riley' and Sam 'Finn').  
I'm interested, tell me, tell me. Or did you? No offence, but if you did, it didn't seem like much of a theory. If you didn't, well, I'd like to know. Even though (being the warped little teen that I am) neither really bothers me. But yes, I prefer OMC to wincest. Of course, that may just be because of the almost _total lack_ of OMC romance on this site for Supernatural.

Lol, it was only 9:54 at night for me when I read the review, so it wasn't too strange to me.

_puplover77_ – Well, I could hardly give him such an abrupt ending. I created him for the sole purpose of making Sam how I like him (and for an excuse to write MM romance). To have him killed right then and there just wouldn't fit into the grand scheme of things. And yes, it was just too good not to put in. Originally it was going to be in the dream beforehand, but I thought it would be funnier if it really happened.

_talon81_ – Yeah, they definitely had it coming (not in a bad way, they just did it too often, it was bound to happen). Yeah, Sam can never seem to get his happiness, can he? Something always goes wrong…

_Anora_ – (Old West Accent) Well, it looks like there's a new reviewer in town. (Normal) Welcome, glad to see you reviewed. Nice to think of it as interesting, it'll keep you… interested I guess. Yeah, I do write during the week, it just takes longer for some reason and more often then not it's the weekend again before I finish.

_Inuyasha's Plaything_ – Hey, I recognize your name. I've seen you around the site (though I've never actually spoken to you). Always nice to see someone I recognize reviewing my fanfic. I'm glad you've, uh, fallen in love with my fanfic, lol. Just remember, to love something that isn't real and alive can border into obsession. Dean Winchester is living proof of that (Nods knowingly).

_Demonhunter2_ – Then why are you reading it? No, wait never mind that, if you _had_ read it, you'd know that Sam isn't gay in this story. There is a thing called bi-sexuality, y'know? But I'm going to thank you in a strange, round-about sort of way, because you made me realize that it is different (or, I should say, _will_ be different) so I've made it an AU. Happy now? (Not that I did it to make you happy).

_Nina_ – Thanks for pointing that out. I live in Australia, and we become legal at eighteen. In this AU (as I said above, this is now an AU), I guess people become legal at eighteen in the US now as well. And I'm glad you think it's interesting, that's a good thing.

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Chapter 6: That Vision Thing

"… So it wasn't you who made that call?" Sam asked.

"No, I've been too busy trying to save my own ass to risk calling them and saving yours." Dean said.

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"Sorry, can't tell you that," Dean said, "Can't be too careful; for all I know, the cops could be listening in on the conversation." Sam sighed but decided Dean was only doing what was safest; he'd probably do the same thing if their roles were reversed.

"Okay, where should I go?" It killed him just to _ask_ his big brother where he should run to and hide. There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few minutes before Dean answered.

"Go to Johnny's." He said.

"Okay, you got an address?" Sam asked. Dean gave Sam the address. "Thanks, see you later… hopefully." He hung up the pay phone and stepped out of the phone booth, shouldering his back pack. He looked up and down the street, and then hailed a taxi.

The driver took him all the way to the Fields' residence, and then expected a very hefty fare (which, in Sam's opinion, was too much, even if the drive was kind of long). Sam got out of the taxi, making a rude hand gesture at the guy as he drove away, and then walking up to the front door of the… house Johnny shared with his parents.

The woman who answered was short, stout, but definitely Johnny's mother despite the great difference in height. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"Uh… yeah, I'm a friend of Johnny's and…" He suddenly remembered that Mrs. Fields had been the one who called the cops. "… I heard he didn't come home last night. I just came by to see if you'd found out anything?"

"As a matter of fact, he came home this morning." Mrs. Fields said. "He seems a little down, maybe you could cheer him up. He doesn't have very many friends you know?"

"No, I… uh, I didn't know that." He said. Mrs. Fields stepped aside and let Sam. He nodded a thank you to her and then realized he didn't know where Johnny would be.

"Down the hall and to the left." Mrs. Fields said, obviously realizing his predicament. He nodded another thank you and headed down the hall. He knocked on the closed door, and heard a forced "Come in" and he pushed the door open. Johnny looked up from where he was laying on his bed and immediately came to his feet when he saw Sam was there.

"Sam!" He crossed the distance between them in about a second and wrapped his arms around him. Sam was both pleased and surprised, not comprehending until that moment just how worried Johnny had been. After a few seconds, he returned the hug, but he quickly pulled back when Johnny winced and involuntarily flinched at Sam's touch. Sam looked at him, confused. Johnny bit his lower lip, and went back and sat down on the bed.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked. He'd thought Johnny would be happy to see him. He'd seemed happy when Sam first opened the door.

"Nothing, I just… I… it's nothing." Johnny said. Sam narrowed his eyes. Something about the way Johnny sat, the way he held himself, the way he had moved, told him something was wrong with the younger man. It had something to do with being touched.

"Take off your tops." Sam ordered. Johnny blinked. "Please." He added, giving Johnny those puppy dog eyes that Dean found it impossible to say no to. They had just as much affect on Johnny, and the younger man sighed, unzipping the front of his jacket and slipping it off, and then taking hold of the bottom of his shirt and beginning to lift it.

"Boys, I thought I might make-" Mrs Fields began as she came in. Then she saw Sam, looking at her son, with Johnny taking his shirt off. Naturally, she put two and two together and got fifteen. It would've been laughable if that hadn't been the correct answer to a different question.

She put her hand to her chest and fell over, unmistakably fainting. Johnny cocked his head to one side as he started on the singlet. "I always wondered how she'd react." He said.

"Should we… er, do something?" Sam asked. Thankful to have Sam's focus away from him for the moment, Johnny nodded.

"Help me get her out to the living room. We can lay her on the couch and tell her she fainted just as you came in." He said, leaning down, wincing as he did so, Sam noticed, and sliding his arms under his mother's shoulders. Sam took the older woman's feet, and they gently carried her out to the living room, and then returned to Johnny's bedroom.

"You don't seem overly concerned about her." Sam said, glancing back out to the living room.

"She does this all the time, tries to make people feel guilty." Johnny said. "My parents are real con artists." He added bitterly.

"Uh-huh." Sam said. He nodded toward Johnny's singlet. The younger man sighed, and gently lifted it over his head. Sam gasped at what he saw. Johnny's chest and abdomen were covered in a mess of nasty looking bruises and cuts. "Turn around." He said. Johnny nodded and slowly turned, showing more cuts that looked like they'd been inflicted by a whip, or maybe a belt. The younger man flinched when Sam reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to look at Sam. "What happened?" Sam asked.

"I… got into a fight." Johnny said. "On the way home."

"You drove home."

"In the motel parking lot."

"The police were there, they wouldn't have let something like that happen, or at least not let it get that bad." Sam said. Johnny couldn't stop himself from glaring at Sam. The older man sighed, and turned Johnny around so he was facing him entirely. "We can talk about this later. Let's see if we can get these cleaned up." He said, gesturing to the injuries.

"I'm not going to a hospital." Johnny said immediately, taking a step back from Sam.

Sam looked at Johnny, confused by the change in his friend. Just this morning he looked like the apocalypse couldn't upset him, and now…

"I won't take you to a hospital." Sam said. "But those cuts could get infected if we don't get them cleaned, and those bruises, well…" He was wasn't sure what he could do about those. He could tell just by the way Johnny was moving that he was in a lot of pain. He gently reached over and touched his chest, trying to avoid the bruises where he could. Johnny looked confused, but also slightly relieved by Sam's touch, and let him do what he had to do. "Well, at least you don't seem to have any broken ribs; that's a good thing." Johnny nodded, and then led Sam to the bathroom where they set about trying to clean the cuts as best they could (Johnny's family didn't exactly have the most stocked medical supplies in case of an emergency).

They managed to find a bottle of antiseptic. They took it back into Johnny's room, where Sam, as gently as he could, started cleaning the many cuts covering Johnny's torso. Johnny's hands took a painful grip on both of Sam's shoulders when the antiseptic-covered cotton ball was first applied to his tender and barely healed skin, letting out a small gasp of pain before clamping his mouth shut and refusing to make another sound, though what he lacked in sound he made up for in the physically letting it out. Sam wouldn't be surprised if he had bruises on his shoulders not from Johnny's vice-like grip.

When they were finally done, Sam returned the bottle to the bathroom cupboard, and returned to Johnny's room to find him pulling his singlet back on.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Sam asked, taking on the chair at Johnny's desk.

"I already did." Johnny said.

"No, you told me a poorly thought-out story." Sam said. He sighed.

"I was worried about you… how'd you get out of the police station?" Johnny asked, trying to change the subject.

"You don't want to know," Sam said. "Who hurt you?" He asked. Johnny looked at him for a long minute, opening and closing his mouth several times. Sam could see the beginnings of tears along the edge of his eyes.

"I… I can't tell you." He said, refusing to look at Sam. Sam sighed and stared down at his hands, not sure what to do. He looked back up and saw Johnny was still trying hard not to let his tears fall. With another sigh, he got up and walked over to the bed, taking a seat and pulling Johnny into a loose hug so as to try and avoid hurting him anymore then he already was.

But Johnny wasn't content with the loose, half-hearted hug, and wrapped his arms tightly around Sam, pressing himself against the older man. Sam let him, and tightened his own embrace, though still trying to be careful of the injuries on Johnny's back.

Finally unable to hold it in anymore, Johnny buried his face in the warmth of Sam's jacket and began to cry softly as Sam held him. Sam just held him, rocking him gently like he would a scared child (if the child was six-foot-one that is).

"I d-didn't mean to…" He said softly. "I-I should've c-come home last night. B-But I wanted to be with you. I w-wanted… to feel it. And he was so angry when I got home." Sam was beginning to put the pieces together in his head. He continued to rock Johnny, letting it all come out in its own time. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this after all.

Johnny was silent again for a while, feeling relieved and content to have someone hold him. He'd never felt what it was like for someone to care about him, except maybe Kit, but she couldn't feel that way about him. It felt like he'd spent an eternity frozen and had now been warmed by Sam's touch. He held on to Sam tighter, like he never wanted to let go. And Sam obliged, holding him so close that to get any closer they'd have to be in the same clothes.

"You're gonna be okay now." Sam promised, and Johnny couldn't help but smile through the tears. Sam smiled too. Then his face became a mask of pain as a vision ripped through his mind. His grip slackened, and Johnny knew instantly something was wrong. He took a step back, seeing Sam with his hands pressed against his temples.

_**Johnny had his eyes narrowed in focus as he struggled against the ropes binding him to the chair.** _

Sam blinked, his breaths short and shallow.

_**He wasn't looking at anything, just staring straight ahead, almost as if he could see his own hands behind him.**_

Johnny was staring at him, not sure what was wrong, and even less sure of what he should do. Sam suddenly cried out with pain and his eyes went wide.

**"_He's dead…" _**

**"_You've got me now."_**

**"_Be with me for forever, Sam."_**

_**Johnny's eyes widened in shock when he saw the knife, the blade covered in his own blood.**_

Sam screamed and fell forward, with Johnny catching him just before he hit the floor.

"Sam?" Johnny said in a small voice, confusion and concern seeping into it. Sam looked up at him, pain still etched into his features. But he pushed it to the back of his mind and climbed to his feet.

"We need to get out of here. Now!" He said.

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A/N**: I hope the vision wasn't too lame. I imagined how it'd look if it were on TV, but it was hard to convert that into written words. So, what did y'all think? Was it good? I hope so, I wrote it in about two and a half hours, so I hope it doesn't seem too rushed. And apologies if the vision seems kind of crappy, I was having a little trouble trying to figure out how to do it. 


	7. Wounds Beneath the Skin

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Author's Note**: Don't kill me! I can give you two very good reasons why I should be allowed to live. One: It's the site's fault, not mine, that Icouldn't update. And two: If you kill me, you'll never find out who the succubus is. So there! (Nods, then runs and hides).

**Review Answers**: Since I have gotten so many (long) reviews, and I've posted both chapter seven and chapter eight, I've spread review answers for chapter six and all that over the two of them, so less of the space is taken up by review answers on this chapter.

_Rosalene_ – Yeah, if there's one thing I like more then writing non-physical torture, it's writing chick-flick moments. And you really didn't need to know that, but anyway…

Yeah, I was considering it, but I decided against it (though, knowing me, he'll probably get some more chances before this story is done). Finally! Someone notices it! I thought I was going to have to point it out myself. Yes, big Buffy fan, though I haven't actually gotten to any of the episodes with him in it (learned about his existence from an episode guide, his full name seems like ideal last names for Sam and Dean).

_Spuffyshipper_ – Yes, poor Johnny. Sacrificing himself so that I could write a good story. Well, he's not dead, so I can drop the dramatics I suppose. Yeah, I think you may be right, I think Sam is falling in love.

_talon81_ – Yeah, it was, wasn't it? I sat down, started typing, and just couldn't stop until I finished. I'm actually surprised it turned out so good. And it's good to know my attempt at writing the visions was so well received. Yeah, I like making people faint, it's fun to think about (let's not go there).

Here's the update, wait no longer weary reader (okay, _that_ was just weird).

_Scott Andrei_ – Oh, a stranger in town. Welcome to the (seemingly ever-growing) group of people who have reviewed this story. Me? A good writer. Thanks, always nice to read those words. I'm pleased (trying to refrained from saying the 'G' word) you found that good, I thought it seemed good when I wrote it. This update soon enough for ya?

_puplover77_ – Yeah, I'm such a cruel guy, poor Johnny. But it had to be done to get them closer. At least, that's my twisted mind told me. Yeah, see, Sam comforting Johnny after it is received with an 'aww' so I was right (nods proudly). Yep, still writing. No actual life to speak of… It helps to make the updates quicker.

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Chapter 7: Wounds Beneath the Skin

Dean cut the line as soon as he gave Sam the address, and looked up and down the street before leaving the cover of the awning out the front of the Fish and Chip store and crossing the street to the impala.

"He okay?" Kit asked as Dean got into the driver's seat of the car. Dean nodded.

"How'd you know it was Sam?" He asked.

"Because every time you think about, or talk to, Sam, you make this face." She showed him the kind of face he made, and he arched an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe not every time, but often enough, mostly when you're worried about him." She looked out the window for a minute, waiting for Dean to start the car.

"So this thing… is it the same one as before? A succubus?" Kit asked. Dean nodded.

"As far as we can tell; the men, the apparent deaths by sexual intercourse, the time between each death, it kind of points to one…" He trailed off.

After two years since last seeing the young woman, Dean still wasn't perfectly sure exactly how she had found out what he and his father had been doing. He figured it had something to do with the fact that he'd been blind drunk and completely open to suggestion. He'd probably have climbed the Statue of Liberty and yodelled at the top if she'd asked him to. Well, tried at least.

"And you think it's coming after my brother?" She asked. Dean nodded again. She let out a small growl. "Like the kid doesn't have enough going for him already, now he's got some psycho chick lookin' to lay him and then kill him."

"'Doesn't have enough going for him'?" Dean asked. Kit looked over at him.

"Oh, nothing," She said. "It's just… well, old habits die hard I guess." Dean gave her a confused look.

"Something I'm missing?" He asked. Kit shrugged.

"What did Johnny tell you?" She asked.

"Well, he said your mum has a job, and that your father gave up the drink." Dean said. Kit snorted.

"Not in this lifetime." She said. Dean didn't look any less confused, so she enlightened him. "That's just Johnny trying to make people believe he has a half-decent life. Okay, yes for the record, Mum got her lazy ass off the couch, and got a job at that sleazy café on the other side of town. But she spends most of the money on smokes. Or more booze for Daddy Dearest." She let out a small sigh. "She's out half the night, and when Dad gets drunk, he… goes bad. Really bad. Especially on Johnny."

"Why Johnny?" Dean asked. She bit her lower lip, suddenly unsure whether she should continue or not. "Hey, it's not my family. If you don't want to tell me, just say so." He said. Kit frowned.

"Mum used to sleep around a lot, when she was younger. Hell, so did Dad; it's amazing their marriage has even lasted this long." She said.

"And that has… what to do with why your father uses Johnny as a human punching bag?" Dean asked.

"Well, that's the thing. He's my father, but…" Her frown deepened, and Dean got the feeling that she rarely told anyone this. "We're almost positive that Johnny's father was one of those bozos Mum got into bed." She said.

"Oh, it runs in the family." Dean muttered under his breath. Kit narrowed her eyes.

"What?" She demanded, her voice venomous.

"Nothing." He said. He started the car and pulled out onto the road. They drove for a few minutes before he spoke again. "So why'd you leave?" He asked. Kit gave a bitter laugh.

"'Leave'!" She said. "They practically threw me out. Why do you think all my paintings are still in my room?" Dean frowned. This was a side of Johnny's family he had not known about. Okay, he knew that his father was a drunk and his mother had no life past her next packet of cigarettes (although she had been known to actually treat Johnny like he was her son, on occasion), but he hadn't comprehended the fact that Johnny actually got hurt by it, nor that they were so neglectful (or resentful, as he suspected the case may be) of their daughter.

"Why'd they throw you out?" He asked. Kit looked uncomfortable for the first time since the conversation had started.

"Well, that was partly my fault. Mum told me I had to pick Johnny up from work and drop him off and all that shit. Neither of us wanted that to happen, and when Mum ordered me to do it, I sort of…" She trailed off. "Let's say three years of anger management went down the drain in one foul swoop." Dean nodded. So not everything Johnny had told him was untrue. She saw the look on his face. "Okay, for what it's worth, mostly, what Johnny said was the truth he wanted to see. Yes, Mum got off the couch and got a job. And yes, Dad did stop drinking. Just not entirely. He's coherent for most of the day, but as soon as Mum's gone he gets out the booze and gets as drunk as is humanly possible." That explained why he'd been able to distinguish more or less who Dean was; Abigail had still been home at the time, so the guy probably just had a hell of a hangover. "You know, sometimes I feel like I just walked into my very own little soap opera." She said, shaking her head slightly. Dean gave a small chuckle.

As he had suspected, the cops were parked inconspicuously around the motel, so Dean drove straight passed it, thankful to see none of them recognized the car.

He was just about to ask Kit for a suggestion of where they could go to wait to find out if Sam really had gotten away from the cops when the mobile started ringing. Dean snatched it up and answered it, glancing at the Caller ID as he did so.

"This better be good news." He said.

"_We've got trouble._" Came Sam's answer.

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Dean asked. "What's up?" He added.

"_I had a…_" Silence for a minute, then, "_I had a vision._" Sam said, not as loud as he had before.

"_A _what" Johnny's voice was in the background, but Dean heard him.

"What did you see?" He asked, glancing over at Kit.

"_Can't really tell you right now._" Sam said. Dean guessed the vision had something to do with Johnny. "_Can you meet us at…_" Another few seconds of silence. "_Johnny says it's the place where Kit took him to catch tadpoles._"

"Where did you go to catch tadpoles with Johnny?" Dean asked Kit.

"Old Grove Park; it has a small pond out past the swing set a little ways. Why?" She asked.

"Do you know how to get there?" Dean asked, ignoring her question.

"Duh, I go there almost every day now." Kit said.

"Yeah, we'll meet you there." Dean said into the phone.

"_Okay, see you in ten._" Sam said, and cut the connection. Dean placed the mobile back on the dashboard and turned his attention to Kit.

"Which direction?" He asked.

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Sam glanced over at Johnny as he slipped his mobile into his jacket pocket. The young man was sitting on one of the swings, rocking back and forth slowly, his eyes staring as if he was looking at something far away, something beautiful. He blinked and smiled when he saw Sam approach. 

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, taking a seat in the swing next to them. Johnny shrugged.

"The cuts don't hurt as much. My back still stings a bit though." He said. Sam chuckled.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it." He said. "I mean, it's not everyday you find out that the guy you spent the night in the same bed with is a supernaturally-powered freak." Johnny looked over at Sam, who suddenly wondered if maybe he shouldn't have brought it up so soon. But Johnny gave a small smile and reached over, pulling Sam closer so he could plant a small kiss on his lips.

"You're not a freak." He said. "Psychic, maybe, but… never a freak." Sam smiled at Johnny, pleased that the young man had taken the visions so well. He was yet to find out the real reason Sam was in town, but Sam decided it was better to take it one step at a time.

"So why are you so… detached from me then?" Sam asked. Johnny shrugged.

"Some wounds take longer to heal then others." He said cryptically. "And not everything is on the surface. Some wounds are beneath the skin." Sam furrowed his brow. Johnny shook his head, like he'd suddenly realized how little sense that made. "I'm fine… it's just… frightening… to feel so powerless. I mean… I couldn't do anything." He looked over at Sam, and there was something in his eyes Sam couldn't recognize. It was almost fear, but at the same time it seemed to be something else entirely. "It was terrifying. I couldn't stop him… I could do… anything." His voice shook, threatening a fresh wave of tears. "He told me… he said…" Sam got up out of his swing and walked around behind Johnny, putting his arms around him reassuringly and whispering soothing words to the younger man, pushing the swing back and forth a little with the lower part of his body.

They both looked up when they saw the black impala pulling up at the sidewalk in front of the playground. Dean got out of the car and, to Sam and Johnny's surprise, Kit did as well. Sam hadn't actually met Kit, but Dean had told him she'd _somehow_ found out about what they did (Dean had been evasive on the how), so he figured she was there to help. That, or she was there to take Johnny back to their parent's house. Sam unconsciously tightened his hold around the younger man.

"Nice to see you two getting along so well." Dean said as he walked over to them. Sam felt Johnny move and reluctantly released him from his hold. Kit walked up and threw her arms around her brother.

"Good to see you're okay." She said. Johnny winced, and Kit immediately released him. She took a better look at him; her eyes narrowed, and she almost instantly seemed to guess what was wrong. "I don't believe it, did he…?" She didn't finish, glancing at Sam. Johnny nodded, though, and she relaxed a little. Then she looked between the two of them. "How much does he know?" She asked, and neither Johnny nor Sam knew which of them she was talking to, since they both knew small amounts of bigger things of each other's life.

Dean seemed to realize the confusion, and clarified. "How much did you tell him, Sam?" He asked.

"He knows about the visions." He said quietly. Although Johnny and Kit both knew about them, they were still in a public place, and he couldn't be too careful. "That's all."

"There's more?" Johnny asked, surprised. Sam sighed and nodded, though he seemed reluctant to go into it any further. Dean, however, had no such reluctance, and he opened his mouth to explain, but Sam cut across him.

"Dean, does he have to… I mean-" He said.

"If it comes after him, he needs to be prepared for it." Dean said forcefully, and then turned his attention back to Johnny.

"I don't think it's after him anymore." Sam said, not looking at anyone. Whatever Dean had been about to say to Johnny was lost when Sam said that.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't it go after him anymore?" He asked, turning slowly back to Sam, already getting an idea of why. Sam looked up, worry in his eyes.

"Because I think it's after me." He said.

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**A/N: Wow, another one finished. Finally, it's out in the open that it's probably after Sam now. So, why don't you all review and tell me what you think of that (by now, I'm sure it's not actually necessary to remind you, y'all are pretty good at it on your own, but I just do it because I like to). Until next time, Cyas.**


	8. A Long Night

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Author's Note**: I hope this chapter is okay. A large percentage of it was written late at night. I get the most ideas then, but I can never trust just how good my skill is, my mind tends to go numb after a while, and I start writing on auto-pilot.

**Review Answers**:

_Maygin_ – Really? Yeah, I did that because I like how it's done that way on the show (sometimes, I don't think it was done that way in Nightmare), it's cool. Yeah, I'll be clarifying why it's so indecisive about who its victim is in the next couple of chapters (hopefully). If I tell you now it'll spoil the surprise. And the whole vision in front of Johnny… yeah, don't know what made me do that, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Pleased it was well received.

I'll tell you this much, there's probably going to be more to it then losing Jessica. I'm still trying to decide on that, but I know what it will be if I decide to put it in.

Ah, yes, that was good, wasn't it? Lol, pleased you liked it. Wow, that would be interesting to see. Ah, the first official guess. Well, I'm not saying anything, though I wouldn't mind hearing what made you think that if you remember. Okay, I go write now; everyone's giving me orders, lol.

_Rose of No Man's Land_ – Good to hear from you again. Pleased you liked the story. Too good, you say? I'm glad you found that funny, that was the main point, though… hilarious wasn't exactly the word I had intended for it to be described as. Nothing wrong with that of course, I am the writer after all, and none of my stuff seems to be as funny to me as it is to other people (though some stuff comes close).

Yes, I do do that, it sometimes helps to keep them in character if I can imagine it happening on TV. Yes, I like to call it 'emotional torture', though that was quite mild compared to what I am capable of (does the shifty eyes thing). One person said I was frighteningly good at writing stuff like that; I actually shock myself sometimes with how bad my emotional torture gets. But we're straying from the point now and I won't bore you with my torturous thoughts.

Really? People actually faint like that? Wow, that… is creepy. And yes, a little weird. When I was writing it, for someone reason I kept seeing flashes of Aunt Petunia from the Harry Potter movies doing it. It was just… (shudders).

Hmmm… adore, I think that's a new one. Though it's nice of you to say nonetheless. Pleased it's so enjoyable. Love these long reviews, keep it up if you can.

_PhantomFable_ – Laziness, it's like the reviewers-bane, if that makes sense. But I'm pleased I finally prompted you to review. I'm still surprised when I get told it's stuff like 'amazing' and 'wonderful' but it's nice to hear (er… read) it. Yeah, I do my best with them. Type faster? My fingers are already blurs, if I type any faster the keys will break, lol.

_jka1_ – Thank you, so kind of you to say so. Pleased you warmed up to them. Here's the update, no answers yet though.

_bououou _– You like? That's good. Yeah, I have to agree with that, I'm gonna try and make the next one better, if there is a next one. Wow, your first? I'm honoured. The site's been doing something mean, and won't let me upload. So this update's been a little late. Hope it hasn't taken too long.

_Kat_ – Yeah, I've noticed that, one reason why I'm writing this story. More intimate scenes? I'll do my best, shouldn't be too hard, but you never know.

_DixieBelle51_ - You liked it? Yay, another helpless Supernatural fan sucked into my ever growing web of reviewers, er, I mean... Anyway, glad Sam caught your interest. Here's the good work.

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Chapter 8: A Long Night

Dean blinked at his brother, not quite sure he'd heard right. Johnny was looking from Sam to Dean, obviously confused.

"Something was… after me?" He asked hesitantly. "Something, like, what…? Like whoever's been killing all those young men?" Sam reluctantly nodded.

"A succubus." Dean said. Sam shot him a look, but Dean ignored him. "You ever hear about those things in school?" He asked. Now Sam just looked judgemental. "Well he might've." Dean said defensively.

Johnny was looking from one brother to the other again. "A… succubus." He said, something close to shock evident in his voice. With a sigh, Sam gave a clarifying nod.

"Yes," he said, and with another sigh, decided he might as well tell him the rest, "Dean and I, we hunt things like that. That's why Dean and Dad were here two years ago. That's why we're here now." He glanced at Dean, who nodded for him to continue. "At first, I… we, thought it was coming after you." He left out the part where the main reason he'd gone out with Johnny in the beginning was because Dean was convinced he could protect him. "But I think it's been… visiting me. Every time I fall asleep." Dean frowned at that.

"Succubi can't do that." He said.

"Apparently, some can." Sam said. "Some form of astral projection I think. They can… project a part of themselves into someone's dreams. Of course, only a rare few have advanced that far. Most either die or are killed before they learn how to do that." Johnny looked both shocked, and in a sense, relieved. Then he looked guilty when he noticed Sam had noticed his relief, and Sam figured that he had felt relieved the succubus was not after him, then guilty because the reason it was no longer after him was because it was after Sam.

"So… what do we do now?" Kit asked.

"_We_ don't do anything." Dean said. "You take your brother…" He'd almost said home. "Somewhere safe. Now that the succubus isn't after him, all you need to do is keep him safe from someone else almost as bad." Sam's eyes widened when he realized what Dean was saying. His hand flew up and closed over Johnny's shoulder possessively. Dean arched an eyebrow, and Sam's cheeks turned red when he realized what he'd done. Johnny, however, seemed pleased by the motion, looking over his shoulder, smiling thankfully at him.

"I'll be fine." He assured Sam. "I'll have my big sister there to look after me." He said with a grin. Kit rolled her eyes and slapped him in the back of the head.

"What'd I tell you about calling me that in public?" She asked. Rubbing the back of his head, Johnny just shrugged, still smiling at Sam. Sam couldn't help but smile back.

"I'll be fine." Johnny repeated. He leaned forward and gave Sam a quick peck on the lips, and then, glancing at his sister, walked over to his Volkswagen. Kit looked disdainfully over at the car, back at the Winchester brothers, and then back to the car.

"Good luck." She said. "Call us when you beat this thing." She said. Dean nodded.

"Will do." He said. Kit gave him a wry smile, and then followed her brother to his car. Dean looked over at Sam, who was still watching worriedly after Johnny. "Come on, we need to go find a place to crash while we try to figure out what to do about the succubus' interest in you." Sam blinked, and then turned his gaze on Dean.

"Yeah. Right, okay." He said, clearing his throat. Dean nodded, and then led Sam back to the impala.

* * *

It didn't take them long to find a new motel. They got everything they'd need out of the car, paid for one night, and then dropped everything in the room before going out to find somewhere to get an early dinner. They settled on some chips from the Fish and Chips store Dean had used for cover earlier that day. They took the chips back to the motel, making a quick stop at the library to join up and borrow all the books on succubae (which, like many of the books they borrowed from libraries, would probably never see another shelf again). 

They ate with only mild interest as they searched for some way to kill a succubus while it was visiting via dreams and not physically. Dean was also pumping Sam full of coffee to keep him awake, because as long as he was awake, the succubus couldn't reach him without physically coming to them.

But after almost five hours of research, both Winchesters were getting drowsy, caffeine or no, and were still no closer to figuring out how to kill a succubus in its dreams then they had been five hours earlier.

Dean was the first to drift off. It was a slow, subtle thing; so much so that Sam didn't even notice that Dean's face had gotten closer and closer to the page with each passing minute. By the time he actually hit the page, Sam was already too far-gone to notice. Within five minutes, before of them were fast asleep, Dean with his head resting against the book he'd been reading, Sam with his head tilted back over the back over the chair, his mouth hanging open slightly.

It moved as if it wasn't there. No one would see it. No one would remember it. Before a second passed it was in front of Sam, reaching down toward the younger Winchester as he slept. He opened his eyes as it laid its hands on his shoulders, but he was already under its spell. His eyes were filled with love and devotion as he slowly got to his feet and let it lead him to the bed.

"_It's time._" It whispered suggestively. He just smiled as it pushed him into a laying position on the bed. Then suddenly the room changed, and it hissed, looking wildly around, feeling its control over the dream slipping away. Sam just laid there, unaware of the changes. "_I… can't._" It growled, turning back to Sam, and although he couldn't see its face, couldn't even make out the mildest of features, he knew it had a promising look on its face; promise of return. It leaned down so that its lips were equal with his ear. "_You _will _be mine!_"

Sam woke with a start, and to his shock, he wasn't in the chair anymore. He swallowed, raising his head to discover he had somehow ended up lying face down on the floor. He took in a short, shaky breath, and slowly pushed himself up, swinging his legs around so that he was in a sitting position. He looked around the room. Aside from him waking up in a different position to when he went to sleep, nothing seemed terribly off. But he felt like something should've been… something was off.

He slowly got to his feet, looking around the room, like he was expecting something to jump out and attack him. Something… the succubus, he remembered. That was what he'd been researching before…

Before he'd fallen asleep. Something he'd been specifically trying not to do. He closed his eyes, trying to think of it had visited him. He frowned and opened his eyes, looking down at his body. _Well,_ he thought, _I probably wouldn't be alive if it had. And I don't remember it. But would I? _He walked glanced at where he'd woken up. Halfway between the table and the bed. Had he been on his way to go to bed before he'd fallen asleep? No, they'd been trying hard not to fall asleep.

His eyes widened and he quickly rushed to Dean's side when he realized his brother was fast asleep.

"Dean, wake up!" He said, shaking his brother until Dean's eyes opened sleepily and he glared at Sam.

"You're not Michelle Branch." He stated sleepily. Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, why'd you wake me up?" Dean demanded.

"I thought… well, I wasn't sure if the succubus had come after you or not… I had to make sure. Sorry." He said, and Dean immediately felt guilty about his snappish tone. With a sigh, he sat up, leaning against the back of the chair and rubbing his eyes tiredly. One day he was going to just collapse into a real bed, and just sleep for a few days. Then he'd go another decade on just an hour of sleep a night.

"So… where were we?" He asked his brother. Sam shrugged, and it was obvious that both of them were in desperate need of more than a couple of hours sleep. Whatever had filled Sam with energy moments earlier (probably the thought that his brother might've been in danger), it was gone now. Both of them were hopelessly exhausted. If the succubus showed up physically right then, neither of them would be in any condition to fight it off.

"Sam!" Dean suddenly noticed Sam's head starting to droop. The younger Winchester looked up at his brother's voice, blinking.

"_Sam…_" And every time he heard that voice whispering in his ear, he wanted to fall sleep all the more. "_I want you. I _need _you. Sleep._" He felt his eyelids slowly fall shut, his head dropping forward again… Only to be startled awake yet again, this time by a glass-full of water splashing over his face.

"I said…" Dean set the now empty glass down on the table. "… that I think I've figure out a solution to our sleep problem." Sam stared tiredly at his brother. If Dean was even half as tired as he was (it seemed as though all the caffeine had had a reverse effect on him), it was amazing he could think clearly enough to even talk, let alone come up with a way to sleep without being in danger of being killed.

"If you'll now turn your gaze to the ceiling above your bed." Dean said. Sam looked up obediently, and couldn't help a small chuckle at what he saw.

"A dream catcher?" He asked tiredly.

"Well, they're supposed to capture evil spirits and dreams. The succubus is sort of like that." Dean said. Sam shook his head, but at this point, he was willing to try anything. He glanced at the clock beside his bed as he stumbled (with Dean's help) the short distance from the chair. It was a little after three, which meant, not counting the snatches of sleep he'd had over the last day when the succubus had visited, he'd had maybe two hours of sleep in the last three days.

"'Night Dean." He said quietly as he crawled under the covers, sounding very much the age he had been the last time they'd used a dream catcher. He'd been about nine at the time, and the thing in his closet had scared him. When his father wouldn't make it go away, instead giving him a .45 to get rid of it himself, the terrified child had turned to his brother for aid, and Dean had hung the dream catcher over his own bed (which had become Dean _and_ Sam's bed as soon as the thing moved into the closet). He'd promised that the dream catcher would suck up anything bad that came into the room (complete with exaggerated gestures and sound effects, much to Sam's pleasure).

"Goodnight Sammy." Dean said with a smile, straightening the blankets out over his brother to provide more comfort. And then he walked around and collapsed onto his own bed, fully clothed and not even bothering to get under the covers.

* * *

When Sam opened his eyes again, he felt sure that he would wake up in the motel, the sun shining through the window, and the dream catcher still in place above his bed. What he hadn't expected was to find himself in a poorly lit room, far away from Dean and any protection the dream catcher might have given him. He sat up, looking around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. 

If only he'd thought to do more research on astral projection, a talent this particular succubus had excelled at, far surpassing any of its peers. He would have known that some can pull people with them across distances in a dream. And that was why it wasn't the comforting motel room he woke up to.

He had about four seconds to worry how he'd gotten there and how he'd get back to the motel before he felt that familiar sense of bliss wash over him, and his whole body relaxed as he eased back down onto the bed.

It smiled at Sam from across the room. While it's loss in control had been an inconvenience early, had it not happened, the idea to bring him here would not have come to the creature so quickly. And now, quiet and quick as death it moved across the small, dank room, towards the bed at the very back, completely naked as it reached down with a long slender arm and slipped a hand under Sam's head, prompting him to lean up a little.

"_They can't help you now._" It said. Of course, it didn't expect Sam to respond. Under the spell, the young man was content to simply lie there, staring adoringly up at the creature that was planning to kill him. "_It's time to end this._" The creature closed its eyes for a moment, and when it opened them again, they were two blue orbs of determination. "_For both our sakes._"

* * *

**A/N: I hope this chapter doesn't seem to repetitive. I know I had the succubus dream twice, but I had to get them to that room for a specific reason that you'll find about in the next chapter. And the whole dream catcher idea just seemed to help with that, so I figured it might be better to have the first 'dream' wake them up, and then have the second dream at the end. Well, hope its okay. By now I'm sure you all know how to review and why, so I'll leave it up to you guys. Until next time, Cyas.**


	9. Shattered Dreams

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Author's Note**: The site's been messing up again, or I'd have posted this sooner. Started and finished in less then a day, I'm getting better and better at this.

**Warning**: Abuse. I'm pretty sure it is anyway. Yeah, I know, I probably shouldn't have written it if I wasn't sure, but, being the twisted teen that I am, I couldn't stop myself (it fit too well into the story). If you still want to read the story but not the abuse part, just skip over the vision, because that's where it happens.

**Review Answers**:

_DixieBelle51_ – _Moi_? British. No, sorry, incorrect, I was born and raised in Australia. In fact, I still am. Being raised, that is. But not very much, cause I'm fifteen now and can raise myself. I'm gonna stop talking now.

_Spuffyshipper_ – Yeah, poor Sammy. Why is Sammy poor again? (I've done so many things, I've lost track of the reason this time, lol.) Yeah, I figured, he's young, he's understanding, he loves Sam, he's should accept the visions pretty easily.

_jka1_ – Yeah, I figured, I'll end it there, torment you guys even more and make you wait till this chapter to find out the identity of the creature. An interesting guess, you'll just have to read on and find out (you'll find out early in this chapter). Yeah, I thought it seemed like the kind of thing Sam would do. I could be totally wrong, but it seemed the thing to write at the time. This soon enough?

_Miss Meehan_ – Oh, yay, familiar face. Glad you thought that was good, all that stuff you wrote about Johnny (since I'll just say the same thing to all of it). Okay, that last bit doesn't make much sense to me, but I think I get the gist, glad you like. To your second review, no, it's not. I won't spoil people's guesses and tell you what it is, but their last name's do refer to someone (he's a fictional character in a show where the blonde chick is the fighter). To your third review (just realized it may take you a while to get here and actually read these, but at least you'll get all your answers when you do), the answer to who the succubus is is in this chapter.

_Rosalene_ - Yeah, I think that was a transitional chapter, though I can't actually be sure. And yes, that was a horrifying revelation, but I thought, what the hell, may as well put Sam in danger, _again_. Yeah, it just seemed to be right for him to make an actual face when he was worried about Sam (though I've paid close enough attention to actually find out if he does or doesn't, I'm normally to busy admiring their...). Yes, I'm not actually sure about this... it might have something to do with what kind of one it is (as you found out in an earlier chapter, there's more then one way for a succubus/incubus to be born - I'm pretty sure I created one of them).Actually, thanks for pointing that out, I just added something to explain it near the end.

_Rose of No Man's Land_ - This soon enough for ya? Lol, you're lucky - a minute later and you'd have been too late to be answered in this chapter, lol. I'm glad you liked that, as I've told... someone else, cant' remember who, it seemed like the kind of thing to write. I think those wee my words anyway. Anyway, yeah, Kit wasn't actually meant to have as big a part in the story as she does, but I thought, what the hell, here she comes. Oh, good, creepy, just what I always wanted. Dream catcher was good? That's good, exactly what I wanted to hear. Yeah, I was actually exhausted when I was writing them, so they were mainly suffering because of how I felt, lol. Really? You think so? I do my very best. I suppose when you write non-stop for a few months, you kind of get a feel for the characters. Wow, a lot like an episodes, that's a compliment I never expected to hear. Well, I'm glad you got in that review before I updated.

**Now, let the show begin.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Shattered Dreams**

Sam felt oddly free, like he'd been held down all his life and suddenly the bindings were loose and he was… floating. He didn't think anything could spoil the feeling of freedom that filled him.

Which made it all the more upsetting when someone reached under his head and that feeling of bliss shattered. He was sure his eyes had been opened seconds ago, but he suddenly realized he hadn't seen the figure standing over him until it had touched him. He smiled, feeling sure that the figure was no threat. He felt oddly happy as it sat down on the bed beside him, its face swathed in shadow.

It might've said something, he wasn't sure. His ears felt full of cotton-wool. That didn't bother him though; he didn't think there was anything important to be heard.

It leaned down towards him, and was just about to kiss him when it jerked backwards, and Sam suddenly became aware of something else; it was like something he'd dreamed about but couldn't quite remember, except it was there with him now. He furrowed his brow, trying to recall what it was.

"_Don't worry._" A blanket of comfort fell over him. Or it felt like it did, anyway. Any doubts about what was going on, and the feeling that there was something he should know, faded away with his companion's voice. It started moving, and he found it straddling his hips suddenly, staring down at him from its shadow-cloaked face. He put his hands on either side of its waist, runnings his hands down towardsit's thighs, and felt himself going hard right behind it,digging into its back slightly. Despite the fact he couldn't see its face, he knew it was smiling hungrily.

It took hold of his wrists and removed his hands from its waist, turning them up and holding them down either side of his head.

And then it leaned down, smothering his lips with its own, fiercely, passionately, exploring his mouth with its tongue. Sam suddenly felt as though something was missing. Something he should be doing, or maybe something he shouldn't be doing.

"_You doubt me…_" It breathed, and then pulled back, panting a little. "_I must… have you. Tell me you… want me, Sam._" It seemed to be struggling to get the words out, and Sam felt the least he could do was oblige, especially when he believed it was entirely true.

"I want you." He agreed. "I want you… so much. For so long." Somewhere, everywhere, inside him, someone was crying. He heard them, felt them, he thought he could see them, but not quite, like he was looking out of the corner of his eye and was seeing something that wasn't actually there.

"_Sam…_" It whispered softly, and he felt its hand shaking where it held his wrists, like it was struggling to hold on. "Don't let me hurt you." It begged. Sam's eyes went wide as saucers as the dream shattered. He recognized that voice.

"Johnny?" He gasped. The shadow had lifted from his lover's, as had whatever spell that had made Sam so compliant. Reflexes kicked in and his hand flew up. Taking his attacker by the throat, he flipped them over –

And fell out of the bed and onto the floor. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. His eyes widened again. "Oh, no…" He breathed, his shoulders sagging as he remembered everything that had happened, even the dream he'd had earlier, before he'd gone to bed. It was like a veil had been lifted, and suddenly everything made sense. Except…

_Why am I still alive? The succubus… incubus,_ he correct himself, _should've killed me. A gay incubus. Who'd have thought?_

Even if the incubus was Johnny… that didn't explain why it… he- Sam couldn't think of Johnny as an 'it', even if he was a sexually-driven demon- hadn't killed Sam. Wasn't the whole get-to-know-you part of the relationship just another part of the game for an incubus? Or had Johnny actually had feelings for Sam? No, that wasn't possible; demons didn't have feelings, at least, not feelings like that. As far as he'd been told, anyway.

"Sam?" Came Dean's groggy voice. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Yeah…" Sam said absently. He suddenly realized what Dean had asked, and the reality of what he'd discovered suddenly came crashing down on him. He inhaled sharply; the realization was almost like a physical blow to his heart. "It's Johnny." He said.

"What? What's Johnny? Is he in trouble?" Dean sat up, any tiredness forgotten for now (as it so often was). "Did you have a nightmare?" Sam shook his head, and Dean ceased his getting up, and turned a confused look toward Sam. "Then… how do you know?" He asked. He suddenly seemed to realize he was looking _down_ at Sam; something he hadn't been able to do since Sam was fifteen. "Sam, why are you on the floor."

"I dreamed." Sam said. He turned to look at Dean. "It's Johnny." He repeated. Dean didn't look any less confused, and Sam sighed. "Johnny's the _incubus_." He said. Dean blinked, staring at Sam. Unsure what else to do, the older Winchester just fell backwards, sitting down on the bed, half dressed.

"Oh." He said. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them letting it sink in. Then Sam explained what had happened, about 'forgetting' about what he'd dreamed, and then Johnny lifting the spell and Sam remembering it all. He was just getting to the bit of how he'd ended up on the floor when Dean's phone rang. Both brothers rushed to answer it (they both used it often enough that it was basically only classified as 'Dean's phone' in name now). Dean managed to get the phone faster. He took a split second to check the caller ID, and then answered it.

"Kit?" He said. "It's…" He glanced at the clock. "Quarter past four, what are you doing up?" He asked.

"_We've got a problem._" She said.

"Does it have to do with Johnny?" Dean asked. Silence. "I'll take that as a yes."

"_He called Mum. He said he was worried about her. But no one answered, so he told me he wanted to go check on her._" Kit said. "_Then he told me to stay behind because Mum would only stress out if she saw me._"

"And you listened to him?" Dean demanded. He was sure Kit shrugged on the other end of the line.

"_It's not like he wasn't right._" She said. "_Besides, that's not the reason I called. The reason I called was because he left at about… seven-thirty and I haven't heard from him since._" Dean relayed this information to Sam, who groaned, making a guess at the reason Johnny hadn't contacted Kit. Dean seemed to guess the same thing.

"Was your father home?" He asked.

"_I… I don't know, probably._" Kit said, and he heard the worry in her voice. "_Mum probably got up and went to work, and Dad never answers the phone._" She explained.

"Well, that may be why no one answered when he rang." Dean said. "Okay, we'll meet you at your old house. I just hope we're not too late." Kit was obviously confused by that statement, but Dean didn't bother to clarify, he just cut the connection.

"We've gotta get over to Johnny's house." He said.

"Why didn't you tell her that her brother is a sexually-driven demon that could kill her before she even knew he was there?" Sam asked, following Dean out of the room to the parking lot.

"Because she's got enough to worry her on the drive there without me dumping that on her." Dean said. "Come on. If I'm right, I don't think Johnny's in danger from his stepfather anymore." Sam gave him a quizzical look. "I think his stepfather's in danger from him." Sam considered that; it definitely made sense. If Johnny couldn't get what he needed from his intended victim, then he was likely to take it from the next closest person, which happened to be his stepfather.

"Okay, let's go." He said. They reached the car and quickly got in their respective side, with Dean driving. It took them about ten minutes to reach the Fields' residence, and they saw Kit just parking out the front as they arrived.

"Kit!" Dean called, getting out of the car. She looked over at him. "Stay here." He ordered, and then raced up to the house. Sam followed without any hesitation, and caught up with his brother just in time to see him kick the front door down when he couldn't get it open.

"Johnny?" Dean called, and Sam saw his brother reaching for a gun, and he reached forward and seized his brother's wrist before he could stop himself. Dean shot a look over his shoulder, but Sam grabbed the gun and threw it out behind him into the garden.

"I'm not going to have a repeat of Max." He whispered forcefully. "Not with Johnny." His voice was half command, half plea. Dean sighed and reluctantly let it go, turning away from Sam and continuing into the house. The younger Winchester followed.

"Hello?" Dean called, glancing into the first room and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Sam glanced into the living room. Nothing. The same was true for the next three rooms they checked. Then they came to Johnny's room. Slowly, Dean nudged the door open, and Sam gasped. Johnny's stepfather was lying flat on his back on Johnny's bed. But that wasn't' what shocked Sam.

It was the exact same room he'd originally woken up in when he was in the dream; the one Johnny brought him to when he wanted to get Sam away from the dream catcher's influence.

Dean slowly walked over to the side of the bed and waved his hands over the wide, staring eyes of Damon Fields. No reaction; he hadn't expected any. He looked over at Sam.

"Dead?" Sam didn't bother trying to sound sad. As far as he was concerned, the bastard had deserved to die after what he'd done to Johnny. Dean nodded, but looked back at the body for a long minute.

"But not the way I expected." He said.

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"His neck is snapped." Dean said, walking out past Sam, who followed a moment later.

* * *

Sam and Dean had to clear out after Kit called the cops; they were, after all, still wanted fugitives, and being found at the crime scene of a man with his neck snapped would not do them any good. 

So they drove back to the motel, and after a heated discussion about what to do, Dean convinced Sam to take a weapon and they'd split up to find Johnny. Dean could tell that even if Sam did find Johnny, he had no intention of using his weapon; for some reason, Sam still saw Johnny as human even though he was obviously the incubus.

"If we don't find him by… midday, we meet back here, got it?" Dean said. Sam nodded, though he was obviously still fuming about Dean wanting to kill Johnny. "Sam, he's a demon, he's what we were raised to kill." He said forcefully to his younger brother. Sam refused to meet his gaze. "Don't let him kill you if it means letting him live." Dean said, and before Sam could figure out what he meant by that, Dean walked away. With a sigh, Sam slammed the trunk closed, and walked off in the other direction. He didn't really expect to find Johnny; the town might have been small, but it wasn't _that_ small.

* * *

Dean didn't actually expect to find Johnny. In fact, a small part of him would be relieved if he didn't, because while the hunter side of him was eager to kill the incubus, the big brother side of him didn't want Sam to hate him for killing Johnny. 

But when he saw the tall blonde young man across the street, his hunter instincts kicked in, and he started following him, trying his best to keep out of sight (but with demons, you could never tell if they already knew you were there, whether they could see you or not). He followed Johnny what seemed like halfway across town before something finally happened. Johnny lifted up a manhole and dropped down into the sewers below. Dean crept up to the hole, and stared down into it.

"Okay, I just followed an incubus to a sewer system, let's see." He thought for a minute. "Probably a trap." He glanced up and down the street. No one was there to see him go down. "Might as well get it done." He pulled out his gun, took another step toward the manhole and then hesitated glancing at the gun. With a frustrated sigh, he slid the gun back into place beneath his belt, and took a dart-gun out of an inside pocket of his jacket. "Damn you Sam." He muttered, deciding that he wasn't going to be able to kill Johnny when there was a chance Sam would never forgive him.

With his chosen weapon in hand, Dean dropped down into the sewers below.

The first thing that hit him was the putrid smell. It reminded him frighteningly of the shapeshifter's lair back in St Louis. Doing his very best to push that thought from his mind, he started forward, holding his gun at the ready in case he saw Johnny.

He'd been walking about ten minutes when he realized how unusually quiet the sewers were. It wasn't like people had parties in sewers, but he expected to hear something; water flowing, rats, something. But all there was was silence, and it was making Dean more then a little nervous. Silence was never a good thing in his opinion.

He noticed a panel had been lifted up ahead, revealing a somewhat spacious room on the other side. He slowly moved forward, gun raised slightly as he came up to the opening, which was just large enough for him to go through if he ducked a little. He looked around behind him slowly; making sure Johnny wasn't going to sneak up behind him if he went into the room.

He looked around as he eased into the room. It wasn't much. In fact, it wasn't anything, just a big empty room.

He was just about to turn around and leave when he heard someone behind him. One upside to the sewers being filled with silence: it was hard not to hear every other little sound that wasn't normally there. He spun around and fired from his gun, growling in frustration when Johnny ducked out of the way just in time to avoid being hit by the tranq-dart.

He moved with inhuman speed (which kind of fit, since he technically wasn't human), landing a punch to Dean's face and sending the hunter staggering back. Dean looked up at Johnny, and saw him already out of the room.

"Oh, no you don't!" He shouted, diving for the opening. Johnny slammed the panel shut, and Dean heard the sound of a metal scraping against metal, and when he tried to push the panel open, he found himself locked in. "Johnny?" He shouted. "Johnny!" He heard footsteps on the other side of the door, walking away. "Johnny, you get your scrawny incubus ass back here!" The footsteps stopped, and he thought for a minute that Johnny actually listened to him.

Then, "Why'd you come back?" Johnny sounded strained, like he was having trouble speaking. "Why did you bring _him _here?"

"What?" Dean called. But Johnny had already started walking away again. With another growl of frustration, Dean kicked at the steel panel, to no avail. Whatever Johnny had pulled across in front of the door, it wasn't moving anytime soon. He kicked it again out of pure frustration.

* * *

Sam was just checking his watch to find out how long it'd be until midday when his phone rang. He took it out and checked the caller ID before answering it. 

"What is it, Dean?" He asked. Whatever his brother wanted to say, however, was drowned out in static, with only the occasional word getting through. "Dean, I can't hear you." More static, and he sighed. "I'll talk to you later." He said, and hung up. Shaking his head in exasperation, he slid the phone back into a pocket of his jeans.

_**The front door opened slowly and Johnny walked in, pocketing his keys as he did so, wondering why the hell the door was locked. He looked up the hall as he came in, and saw a light on in the living room. **_

Sam froze, looking a little disoriented for a minute before his mind registered what was happening and his eyes widened as he felt a familiar pain in his head. He looked around, trying to ignore it, trying to decide where to look for Johnny next.

"**_Mum?" He said softly as he reached the living room and looked in. He froze and took an involuntary step back when he saw his stepfather sitting on the couch, not his mother, quite obviously drunk._**

Sam inhaled sharply, grimacing as he took a step forward, still trying to ignore the pain. He wiped his eyes, feeling them water as vision ripped through his mind. He took one more step before it took over completely.

"**_You were due back hours ago, you little weasel." Damon snapped at the boy. "Where the hell've you been?" His words were slightly slurred, and Johnny saw a few empty bottles on the floor in front of the couch. "Your mother was worried sick when she left for work." Johnny winced, but had a feeling that wasn't why Damon was so angry at him. He took a step back as the older man got unsteadily to his feet._**

"**_I… I had to…" He gulped, not sure what he could tell his stepfather. Nothing he said ever did any good anyway. "The motel called, I-" He was cut off as the back of his stepfather's hand connected with his face and he was knocked backwards._**

_**The boy looked up, his whole body shaking, his lip split where Damon's hand had connected. Closer inspection showed the beginning of tears in his eyes, but he tried to hold them back. Crying just made everything worse. He'd learned that the hard way many, many times.**_

_**He cowered in his stepfather's shadow as the older man took another step towards him, trying to look as small and unthreatening as he could. Not that it helped, it was just what his body told him to do.**_

_**The older man reached down and lifted Johnny to his feet by the collar of his shirt, and held him there when the boy's legs refused to keep him standing. He glared at Johnny disdainfully, and didn't miss the whimper of fear that escaped the young teen's lips. He growled.**_

"**_Don't you start crying." He snapped. Johnny sniffled, and tried to keep control of himself. "Men don't cry, they stand up and take things as they come." He let go of Johnny, he crashed to his knees at his stepfather's feet. "Get up." Johnny looked up at the older man, but that was all the movement he could managed. "Get. Up." Johnny shook his head, unable to stop the tears anymore. He started to sob quietly on the floor. Damon growled, and without stopping to think, kicked the boy lightly in the abdomen._**

_**Johnny yelped in shock and pain and curled in on himself, but he didn't get a chance to recover from the as Damon pulled him to his feet again, this time by his arm. Johnny had had enough trouble standing before, now, winded, he couldn't even think of standing, so his stepfather mostly dragged him down the hall to his bedroom (for once, Johnny was thankful his mother hadn't carpeted the floors) and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.**_

_**The young teen instinctively tried to move away, only to be grabbed by the scruff of his shirt and dragged back. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around himself and wished desperately for somebody to come and save him. Tears were falling freely down his face, and he kept murmuring random prayers and pleas through the sobbing.**_

_**His stepfather reached down and pulled him to his feet for the third time, this time pulling him over to the bed.**_

"**_Take off your pants." He ordered the boy. Something between a cough and a whimper escaped Johnny's throat, and he shook his head quickly. "Now!" The older man roared as if he hadn't seen Johnny's refusal. Johnny shook his head again._**

"**_No-" He started, only to be cut off as his stepfather's fist connected with his jaw._**

Sam gasped, jerking his head to the side as if he had felt the blow. A few people were staring at him, had been for the past few minutes like he was crazy; he'd just stood there as if frozen.

Tentatively, he reached up and touched his cheek, and breathed a deep sigh of relief when he felt no pain. He looked around, and realized that everyone nearby was watching him. Shaking his head, he continued walking, ignoring the stares that were following him.

As he walked, he thought about the vision, and realization suddenly he hit him. When the vision had ended, he had simply thought he was being shown what had happened the night before, but now he realized that that wasn't the case. The more he thought about it, the more sure he was that Johnny had been at least a year younger then he was now; for one thing, he'd been shorter.

And suddenly, the final piece of the puzzle regarding Johnny being an incubus had just clicked into place. He hurried back to the motel, even though he still had a couple of hours before he had to meet Dean there; he needed to examine the books on incubi and succubae that he and Dean had borrowed from the library.

He opened the door and almost ran to the table, quickly glancing over each of the books until he found the one he needed. He picked it up, went over and sat on his bed, and began to read, finding out everything he need to be sure of the conclusion he'd come to.

He had been trying to figure out how Johnny could be an incubus ever since he'd woken up that morning. The vision had given him the answer. It turned out that there were two requirements for a succubus or incubus to 'sire' a normal human. The first was that the person had to be willing in some way or another; judging by the state Johnny had been in, Sam had a feeling he'd have been willing to do just about anything to make his stepfather leave him alone. The second requirement was that the person had to have experienced some form of sexual distress at some point in their life. It wasn't specific on what kind of distress, but Sam had a feeling Johnny definitely had that down as well.

This also explained why Johnny was only ever in one shape when he visited Sam; because he was still essentially human, just with... updates in his bodily functions.

The thought of what had been done to him made Sam want to bring Damon Fields back to life just so he could kill him again. The feeling was not entirely unfamiliar to Sam; it was close to the need for revenge that had filled him ever since Jess died, but… different, somehow.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. He looked up, expecting to see Dean, and immediately got to his feet, snapping the book shut, when he saw Johnny standing in the doorway, sweating profusely, a slightly not-quite-there look in his eyes. As Sam stood there, waiting to see what he did, Johnny gave him a smile that lacked warmth as much as his eyes lacked life.

"Not who you were expecting?" He asked.

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A/N: Well, that went a lot longer then expected. I hadn't realized it could take so long to get Dean locked up in the sewers and give Sam a vision. Hope it was okay. Until next time, Cyas.**


	10. Love and Madness

**Twisted Love**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Review Answers**:

_Spuffyshipper_ – Glad the chapter was received well. I was worried about certain things. But you obviously enjoyed it. Yes, those two have a serious problem on their hands. Hmmm… that's an interesting theory. I, personally, have no ideas if he's good or evil. I guess we'll just have to wait and find out.

_jka1_ – Yes, you were right. I had hoped I was covering it up enough, but a couple of you out there managed to guess anyway. Yeah, it is sad, I don't know why I wrote it. As I said, it just seemed to fit into the story real well. Here's the update, hope you like it.

_talon81_ – Yeah, he's the incubus, glad not everyone guessed it, it's nice to know my surprises are mostly successful.

_DixieBelle51_ – Glad you liked it. This soon enough for ya?

_Rosalene_ – Yeah, I thought it'd be a good thing to put in. Glad I was right. Well, not exactly part incubus as in half-incubus-half-human, but he isn't a full incubus, no. You'll find out why, and why Sam wasn't kill, in this chapter. I agree with you and Sam, he definitely deserves that. Let's do it now (jk). Hmm, can I figure out a way to save Johnny? That's a question I've been asking myself all day and I still don't have an answer, lol. I may find one eventually, but until then, it's all up in the air. This soon enough?

_vinsmouse_ – Oh, new person. Welcome to the fold. My welcoming's get dorkier every time someone new reviews. I'm glad I surprised you. Here's the update, would you like fries with that?

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Chapter 10: Love and Madness

Sam took a step back (or more, up and back, because he ended up standing on the bed), trying to keep Johnny a safe distance away. Johnny, however, seemed in no hurry to come closer, standing there, that slightly unnerving smile on his face, staring intently at Sam like he expected him to make the first move. If he took out a cigar and started smoking it, he'd look like the ideal villain, Sam thought, remembering back to the cartoons he used to watch when he was younger.

"I've got all day." Johnny said, which convinced Sam he was waiting for him to make the first move. Sam slowly got down from the bed moving around to circle Johnny. Johnny started moving as well, like he was circling Sam.

It lasted until Sam came to the door and Johnny realized that was all he'd intended to do. Before Sam could even reach for the door handle though, Johnny had rushed forward, faster then any human could ever move, placed one hand on the door as it came open a centimetre, and used the other hand to push Sam back from the door. Now he wasn't smiling. There was anger in his eyes, but the rest of his face was blank as he stared at Sam where he'd steadied himself against the wall.

"My turn." He said, and charged forward, swinging his fist at Sam, who blocked it with his arm, and threw a punch at Johnny's face, which Johnny blocked and returned, his fist connecting with Sam's cheek. Sam rolled with it and spun around, sweeping his leg out behind Johnny and knocking his legs out from under him.

Johnny land on his hands and flipped over back to his feet, a wry grin on his face when he saw the surprised look Sam had. "Weren't expecting that, were you?" He asked, and then the fight started again. Despite the fact that Johnny, being an incubus, was clearly stronger then Sam, Sam managed to hold his own pretty well, blocking what he could and doing his best to ignore what he couldn't. Johnny was alarmingly good; it made Sam wonder what other talents the young man… incubus… had hidden; aside from his apparent gymnastic skill.

"You're foot work's a little sloppy, Sam." Johnny said, throwing punch after punch against Sam.

"You're grading me?" Sam asked in a disbelieving voice, blocking a punch aimed at his throat.

"Well I have to do something to relieve the boredom." Sam realized just what Johnny meant by that when he was thrown halfway across the room by a well aimed punch to his chest. He landed on the table, which tipped over with the odd amount of weight on one side, depositing him painfully onto the floor.

He laid there in pain for a few seconds, only to have Johnny lift him up by the front of his jacket and slam him against the wall. He let out a gasp of pain and all the air went out of his lungs. He raised his head to look at Johnny, and felt a sharp pain in his jaw as Johnny punched him ferociously, repeatedly.

For a few pain-filled moments, he wondered what he'd done to trigger such a ferocious attack from Johnny, and then he took advantage of a momentary lapse in the assault and punched wildly outward, his vision blurred slightly from the pain that was sending shut-down signals to his brain.

Amazingly, he managed to hit Johnny, and felt his hold on his jacket vanish as the Johnny staggered backwards. Wiping blood from his split lip, Sam blinked, trying to clear his vision. He was able to make out where Johnny was standing fairly easily, even with his vision slightly blurred, and did the only thing he could think of: he ran forward and tackled Johnny to the ground, came to his knees and began punching Johnny in the face, though not quite with the ferocity Johnny had used, just enough (he hoped) to knock the youth unconscious.

As luck would have it, he failed, and Johnny threw him off him, backwards into the wall again. Sam groaned as his head smashed against the wall.

"Playtime's over." Johnny said, glaring at Sam and rubbing his check where Sam had punched him. He walked over and grabbed Sam by the throat, lifting the taller man up off the ground and slamming him against the wall.

Sam grabbed hold of Johnny's arm, trying to pull him away from his throat. But it was no use; even before he'd had his body slammed against a wall, he'd been weaker then Johnny. He didn't stand much chance of overpowering him now.

"Any last words?" Johnny asked, and Sam felt his airway open just enough to allow speech and a small amount of air to get in. He took a couple small, shaky breaths and then attempted a nod.

"Yeah…" He said. "Something Dean told me when I was young. He was 'When the going gets tough-'"

"'The tough get going'?" Johnny asked incredulously. He leaned up. "You're not going anywhere." He said, a corner of his lips turning up in a strange, half smile.

Sam grinned. "Actually…" He felt Johnny's grip tighten. "He said, 'when the going gets tough, fight dirty'" Johnny arched an eyebrow, obviously not getting it. Sam smiled and thrust his knee forward, kicking off from the wall, and was pleased to hear the gasp of surprise and pain escape Johnny's lips ,when he connected with the younger man's crotch.

Johnny dropped him to the floor, both his hands going to his groin as he fell to his knees.

"Guess he was right." Sam said with a shrug, and then he punched Johnny in the face with all the strength he could muster, and was relieved when Johnny slumped to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

Sam has just returned from buying some food when Johnny started to come around. He'd called Kit earlier and asked her to look for Dean. When he'd explained to her that he could deal with Johnny (though he didn't actually say he had Johnny in the same room with him), she'd agreed to go look. 

So that meant Sam was free to spend some 'quality time' with his lover. Because as much as Sam tried to see Johnny as the incubus he and Dean had been hunting the past couple of days, he couldn't. Johnny was still Johnny. Dean would say he was splitting hairs, but Sam wasn't so sure.

He looked over when he heard a groan from Johnny. The waited for a minute, and then the youth's eyes opened he raised his head. He saw Sam, and a second later, he realized he was tied to the chair he was sitting in. He glanced down at the thick white ropes, then back at Sam.

"You think these can hold me?" He asked incredulously. Sam grinned.

"Normally, no." He said, and he saw Johnny tense against the ropes. He turned away, walking over to the fridge to get a drink. "And incubus is definitely strong enough to break through a few measly ropes. That is, if he can build up momentum." He looked back over and saw that Johnny had his eyes narrowed in focus as he struggled against the ropes binding him to the chair. "As you've no doubt just discovered, I've made sure you can't even twitch a muscle, let alone build up enough momentum to break free." He sat down on the end of the bed and watched for a few minutes as Johnny continued to struggle, and then finally settled down, and glared furiously at Sam.

"So, what, you're just gonna leave me here until I or your brother die of starvation?" He asked. He grinned cruelly when he saw Sam wince at the mention of his brother dying. "How long can humans go without food?" He asked.

"How long can incubi go without sex?" Sam shot back. A muscle in Johnny's jaw twitched, but he didn't say anything, looking away. Sam sighed and finished his drink, and then went and sat down at the table with his laptop, opening up a game of Solitaire while he waited for Johnny to say something.

"He deserved to die." He finally said, and Sam looked up. Johnny turned to look at him.

"Your stepfather?" Sam guessed. Johnny didn't say anything else. Sam sighed and returned to his game, glancing over at the young man on occasion. He noticed that he had started sweating again, even worse then he had been when he'd first arrived; his hair was matted and stiff, his face was covered in a fine layer of perspiration, and Sam was guessing his clothes were slowly saturating. He realized he probably should've removed the younger man's jacket before tying him up. But he hadn't really been thinking ahead. He'd been too busy with the present and his incubus lover.

Feeling sorry for Johnny, Sam got up and went into the bathroom, Johnny's eyes following him all the way to the door. He got a washcloth, soaked it in cold water, and then wrung it out.

He walked over to Johnny and gently rubbed his face and hair with the damp cloth. He seemed to relax after a minute, though his whole body was shaking and he had his eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain. When Sam finally finished, Johnny let out a relieved sigh that changed halfway to a strangled sob.

"What's happening?" Sam asked.

"What do you think is happening?" Johnny snapped, glaring at Sam. "I'm an incubus Sam. I need… something. Intimacy. Sex. Something." He repeated. Sam bit his lower lip for a minute, hesitating. Then he took Johnny's head in his hands and slammed their lips together in a bone-jarring kiss. As if he'd been waiting for it, Johnny immediately sank into in, prying Sam's lips apart with his tongue and easing inside, much to Sam's delight.

By the time Sam pulled back, both of them were out of breath and rock-hard in their pants. Sam stared expectantly at Johnny, expecting something to be different; he felt more tired then he had been. He was almost positive Johnny had managed to get something out of that.

Johnny, however, didn't like Sam staring at him, and glared at the older man. "Stop that." He said breathily.

"Didn't…? We just… I mean… shouldn't you have…?" Sam became aware he wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to ask. Johnny gave him a cold smile.

"You think one kiss is enough?" He asked. He leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. "Oh, god, just kill me now and get it over with. Stop with the torture." His tone was a little too casual for Sam's liking. Like he was joking, although Sam was fairly certain he wasn't.

"Johnny-"

"He's dead…" Johnny said, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. "He couldn't live without you. But he couldn't live with killing you. So he died to make it easier…" He laughed, a high, bark-like laugh that really didn't suit him. "But don't worry. You've got me now." Sam frowned. It was like both the Johnny he'd been with just nights earlier and the Johnny he'd fought earlier had both vanished in favour of this one. Who seemed to be… going mad.

Sam suddenly remembered the second way to kill an incubus; depriving it of sex. Obviously, for some reason, Johnny's deterioration was accelerating, because the book had said it took months. Johnny looked like he barely had hours. He suddenly became aware that Johnny had been talking all this time.

"… thought someone had finally come to save him. But all she did was hurt him more. She promised him retribution. She gave it to him. Filled his head with stupid dreams and then left him to fend for himself before he was complete." Johnny rolled his head in a small circle. His eyes fall on Sam, and he blinked. "Sam…" Sam instantly turned his full attention back to Johnny, who seemed to have gotten over his state of madness. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I didn't want to hurt you." Sam blinked, confused.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"It was your life or mine." Johnny said softly. "I need to be touched… I need to feel it, or I lose myself."

"What?"

"The spark." Johnny said. "The part of me that's me. I did it for months. Self-preservation above all else, she told me. Lives are lost everyday. What's one more in exchange for your soul?" He didn't really seem to be asking Sam. It was like he was talking to someone else. "It wasn't forever. Only until we were done. But then she left. We didn't finish me, the bit that made me what she wanted. So I stayed me. And I couldn't fight him." He looked like he tried to move his arms (the fact that he couldn't move them even a millimetre made it hard to tell if he did try, but that was what Sam thought), but obviously remembered he couldn't, and settled for smiling sadly at Sam. "I kept taking. I didn't want to die, like she said. It hurts, like standing on the sun for hours, only she said it only lasts for a few… minutes? Seconds? Or days?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, and maybe his body wanted to follow, because the chair moved slightly. He opened his eyes again and stared at Sam.

"It always hurt. He made it hurt more then it should have. And she told me it was always supposed to hurt." His eyes had gone out of focus, as if he was recalling a painful memory. "They all suffered. I didn't know any better. I thought it was supposed to hurt." He was rocking his head back and forth; again, his body surely would've followed if it could've. "But you made it… good. You smoothed out all the bumps… edges blurred… I didn't know it could feel good." He closed his eyes again. "I think it was love. But she said love wasn't real." He seemed confused for a second, like something. "Do I love you, Sam?" He asked.

It took Sam a few seconds to realize Johnny had asked _him_. He'd gotten so caught up in the story, as little sense as it had made, and was shocked when Johnny had acknowledged him again. He smiled faintly, and reached up with the cloth again, wiping away the new layer of perspiration that had built up on Johnny's face. Johnny smiled as Sam washed his face, and seemed to take that as confirmation.

"I was supposed to take you." He said. "Your life for mine." He shook his head violently. "No, my life for yours." He corrected himself. He turned a stern stare on Sam, who had a feeling Johnny had changed his persona once again. "Do it. Do you know what it's like to burn out?" He demanded. Before Sam could answer, he continued. "I don't. None of us do. But we've seen it. I remember it. Or… does she? None of it makes sense. It all gets blurry at the end." He looked at Sam. "I don't want to burn up." He said childishly.

"You won't." Sam said, wiping Johnny's forehead again. "I'm going to help you-"

"You wanna help me?" Johnny snapped. "Pull down our pants' and sit on me." He was completely serious. "Come on, Sam, it's not like we haven't done it before." He smiled in a strange way. Sam got to his feet, and Johnny glared at his back as he walked towards the bed.

"I need to rest." Sam said. He suddenly felt the full effect of their kiss overwhelm him. He was amazed Johnny hadn't killed him their first night together; or maybe had hadn't had to; he'd said he needed intimacy, not necessarily sex. So he could probably survive for days, maybe weeks on one person. Maybe; Johnny had also said he needed it everyday. That didn't make much sense to Sam; while incubi did need sex often, they didn't _need _it everyday. Maybe it had something to do with what Johnny had been ranting on about, with his humanity and soul and whatever…

Thoughts such as that filled his head as he laid down on the bed and rested his head on the pillow. He was asleep within minutes, completely worn out by the kiss he'd shared with Johnny.

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When he was sure Sam was definitely asleep, Johnny set to work on getting free. While he couldn't move his arms, or legs, or pretty much any other part of his body, his hands were still more or less free, tied behind the back of the chair. He closed his eyes, working his hands this way and that, trying to reach the knot that was more or less holding the whole job together. If he could get his hands free, the rest of his body would be free within minutes, if not seconds. 

He wasn't looking at anything, just staring straight ahead, as if he could see his own hands behind him. In a way, he thought he almost could. It was amazing what the sense of touch could do if a person stopped trying to see with their eyes.

It got harder as time passed. The little pick-me-up Sam had given him in that kiss had helped, but it was hardly enough to keep him going. It was like holding a drowning man above the water for a few seconds and then dropping him back under the water. Nevertheless, Johnny was determined to get free before Sam woke up again.

Thoughts of Sam caused him to involuntarily glance over at the older man to make sure he was still sleeping peacefully. When he was sure he was, he returned to the rope behind him. He closed his eyes; was that it? He reached just a little further with his fingers, stretching to the limit, and found the knot.

His eyes opened, a look of triumph flaring up.

Now that he'd found the knot, it wasn't long before he managed to work it undone. A slightly mad grin crossed his lips as he worked his hands free of the ropes, and brought them around, grabbing a part of the rope around his arms, and snapped it like string, pulling the coils up over his head. He did the same to the ropes around his stomach, so that his upper body was free. Then he leaned down and broke the ropes holding his legs and ankles, and he was completely free.

He got to his feet, smiling madly. "Told you they couldn't hold me." He said to Sam's sleeping form. "Now it's time to finish what I started." He moved towards the bed, as silent as a shadow, careful not to wake the sleeping hunter; if he was going to finish it, Sam had to sleep. If he was awake, well… it'd be a whole lot harder.

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A/N: Yeah, I know, another cliffhanger. I thought it was best to end it there; annoy the crap out of my readers. Yeah, you know you love 'em. Review and tell me what you think of this chapter. 


	11. Instinctual Desire

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Author's Note**: Okay, a couple people still don't understand exactly what Johnny is (not surprising; the explanation was in the form of mad rambling). Basically, yes Johnny is an incubus, and he was sired by the succubus that Dean and John killed a couple of years before this story. In this little world of mine, with the siring, it takes a certain amount of time for someone to… lose their humanity after becoming an incubus/succubus, and until they do, they're in the state Johnny is now; kind of the baby-stage of an incubus/succubus; they need to feed on intimacy like a baby feeds on milk, and they need it at least once a day. Because Johnny's sire was killed before she could 'finish him' as he put it, he's basically stuck in that state. He's still in the baby-stage; he had to be weaned off of intimacy gradually, so that then he could just feed through sex every couple of weeks or whatever. Instead, because he refused to take Sam, he's kind of been forced off it instantly, and that's why he's only semi sane/human/incubus. He's sort of stuck halfway between the two species. Does that make sense?

**Review Answers**:

_jka1_ – Here's your answer.

_Miss Meehan_ – Yeah, it's a really funny story. I couldn't stop myself. Well, as far as I know, most of the stuff about Incubi and Succubae in this story I've made up, like the whole siring thing, I got that from vampires. Okay, so that's not exactly most of the stuff, it's just all I could remember. Hmm… maybe I do know more about incubi and succubae then I realized. Yeah, no heat, no frenzy. Innocence. I wonder what happened to all that stuff (whistles innocently – you'll understand what I'm talking about later). Yes, the details, I try to keep the story details, but I've always thought they were one of my weaker points. Interesting to see you appear to disagree with that theory.

_talon81_ – Yeah, that ceases in this chapter. Read on to find out what I mean.

_Spuffyshipper_ – Here's the update. Hmmm… is Dean okay… he will be, once he learns not to get between an incubus and its prey.

_Tyranusfan_ – See the Author's Note above. Yeah, I've known it was going to be him since the beginning of the story. I'm guessing I did well at covering it up, since so few people expected it.

_Thru Terry's Eyes_ – Thanks. And thanks again, I live to please and annoy. And write, of course.

_DixieBelle51 _– Yay. Yeah, cliffhangers are evil when you're reading them. But that's okay, cause I'm not the one reading them, hehe.

_vinsmouse _– Yeah, the Winchester brothers always seem to run into some kind of trouble or another. I'm glad you can look, it's make it kind of hard for you to R & R if you weren't looking at the screen. This update soon enough for ya?

_Rose of No Man's Land_ – Ah, creepy, creepy is good. Yeah, I'm glad the change is so noticeable. I was trying to make as much difference between human-Johnny and incubus-Johnny. Yeah, poor Sam, nothing ever seems to go right for him. Yes, Dean… Dean, Dean, Dean, he should've learned not to follow things into the sewers, something always seems to go wrong. Yeah, I know what you mean. Sam gets hurt and Dean gets trapped. Except in the Benders, the opposite seemed to happen.  
Anyway, back to the subject at hand. I'm glad you think it's like an episode, that's very pleasing to hear. It's good to know my characters are so well received. If I could only do it with my own stuff and not just fanfiction, I'd be off to a great start as a writer. Oh well, I'll get there someday.  
But once again, I've strayed from the subject. You liked the vision? I was a little worried about it, but no one's made a complaint yet, which, as far as I'm concerned, is a good sign. If you like angst, may I suggest one of my one-shots (if you haven't read it already). It was my first attempt at angst and since it seems you're a staff member at the C2 that took it in out of the cold (okay, weird), maybe you can tell me if I suck at angst or not. Oh, you liked the cliffhanger? Never thought I'd hear someone say that, lol.

_Chase El Toliso_ - Oh, yay, familiar face. Thanks for your reviews. Indeed you do, the story's almost finished (and you won't actually know this until 1. You get to this chapter or 2. It ends before you catch up. Anyway, glad you reviewed, hope you read this soon, and hope to hear more from your soon.

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Chapter 11: Instinctual Desire

A second before Johnny reached the bed, Sam's eyes snapped open. Johnny froze, and that was all the time Sam needed. He all-but leapt from the bed and tackled Johnny to the ground, not even stopping to think how useless the attack was; Johnny was, after all, an incubus, and at least twice as strong as Sam. Johnny, however, seemed too preoccupied with being shocked by the idiotic move to even think of fighting back, and was lying flat on his back with his hands held down either side of his head before he even remembered what he'd been about to do.

Then he flipped them over so that he was on top, and backed up off of Sam, rising to his feet and giving Sam a challenging smile. "Care to try that again?" He asked. Sam threw himself forward onto his feet, swinging his fist towards Johnny, who easily deflected the blow and threw a punch at Sam's throat. Sam caught his arm and flipped him over before he could fight back.

Johnny rolled forward as he hit the ground and came back to his feet, spinning around in time to catch Sam's wrist with his arm as the older man tried to punch him, holding him there and backhanding him across the jaw before Sam pulled him down to the floor and punched him in the face.

With little-to-no effort, Johnny pulled himself to his feet and behind Sam, pulling the older man's arm around with him and trying to get a hold of his other one as well. Sam elbowed him in the stomach, spun around and punched him in the face, and then pulled Johnny around, putting one hand on his shoulder and twisting his arm behind his back. He heard a growl coming from Johnny, but jabbed his elbow into the square of the younger man's back, and it turned to a groan as he fell to his knees.

"You think you can beat me a second time?" Johnny asked. Before Sam could answer, he turned into his hold and swept his leg out, knocking Sam's legs out from under him and wrapping his arm around his throat, holding him as tight as he could. "I'm thinking not." He said.

Sam groaned with effort, trying to break free of Johnny's grasp. With a cry of anger, he threw himself backwards against the younger man trying to strangle him, knocking both of them to the ground.

Sam heard a satisfying _thunk _as Johnny's head collided with the floor, and rolled off of the younger man's body, lying flat on his back, taking in deep gulps of air. He should've remembered that incubi have better endurance then regular humans, and a simple blow to the head wouldn't be enough to slow Johnny down.

He remembered it about a second after Johnny moved over him, straddling his waist, and his hand closed around his throat. His eyes widened as he stared up at Johnny; for the first time since he'd first realized that Johnny was an incubus, he saw him the way Dean saw him. There was pure, instinctual rage in his eyes, all of it focused straight at Sam. His eyebrow twitched; he seemed to be forcing himself to hold on.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his grip; but it was obvious already that he couldn't finish it. With a growl of frustration, his eyes snapped open. This time, there was no rage. Or at least, not in the way it had been. It was all focused into desire now. Desire for Sam.

He let go of his throat only to take his head in both hands and pulling him into a vicious kiss. Sam instinctually fought against him; this wasn't what he wanted. Or… he didn't think it was. Outside of the dream, Johnny's hypnotic powers were… basically non-existent, probably something to do with the fact that he 'wasn't finished' as he had put it.

He tried to push the younger man back, but Johnny let go of his head and pinned his hands to the floor, pushing his head down against it as well, his kiss getting even more fierce, if that was possible.

It didn't take long for Sam to wear himself out. Not only had he just narrowly escaped being strangled not once, but twice; the way he was trying to fight Johnny was like a rabbit trying to fight a wolf. And Johnny was kissing him just as hungrily as any wolf would feed.

Finally, Sam just relaxed, not out of acceptance but of exhaustion. And that's when Johnny moved his hands down, one coming to cradle Sam's hand, the other reaching down and under his shirt. Sam's eyes went wide in surprise, and all defences melted away in favour of reaching up and wrapping his arms around Johnny's chest, returning the kiss Johnny had so vigorously given him.

Encouraged by Sam's kiss, Johnny lifted both himself and Sam to their feet, their lips never parting as Johnny helped Sam pulled of his jacket, then his own, then their shirts, all the way until both their upper bodies were naked, and then he turned Sam around and pushed him onto the bed, his breaths coming out in short pants, eyes focusing on Sam alone; nothing else mattered to him, and it was then that it became obvious to Sam that this was definitely not the same young man he'd fallen in love with… wow, had it only been a couple of days earlier?

"Dean' won't be happy-" Sam started, but Johnny cut him off with another kiss.

"No shop talk." He ordered, pushing Sam up against the bed-head, pinning his hands t the wall.

"I should be trying to kill you…" Sam said absently, enjoying Johnny's kiss as much as Johnny enjoyed giving it to him.

"Whatever." Was Johnny's non-committal answer.

"I really think-"

"Sam…" Johnny said warningly.

"But-"

"You know, there's still a lot of rope over there." Johnny said, pulling back momentarily, and leaving Sam feeling a little cheated, something he hadn't expected. "You can shut up on your own or I can make you." He said. Sam arched an eyebrow, but Johnny just smiled fiendishly. After a (very short) moment, Sam held his hands up in surrender. As if as a reward, Johnny's hand reached down and began undoing the zipper of Sam's jeans. That was enough to keep Sam quiet even without Johnny's threat. Well, except for the occasional moan of pleasure or impatience that escaped him as Johnny slowly stroked his member. His whole body shook with the effort it took not to start kissing the young man again right then and there.

"Hurry up and do it or…" Johnny gave him a warning look, one that would've been downright scary to meet in a dark alley. "Never mind." He decided to play it safe. Or as safe is he could be while willingly having sex with a half-mad incubus.

The stroking and caressing and the kissing (sometimes each other, and sometimes just parts of each other) went on for what seemed like a small eternity.

"Johnny." Sam gasped.

"Yeah?" Johnny said absently, for more interested in Sam's lower half then his face.

"Get it started." Was the strangled answer. Johnny looked up at him, saw the aroused expression on Sam's face, and grinned.

"All you had to do was ask." He said, reaching over and kissing Sam lightly on the lips. "You do it." He said invitingly, pulling back. Sam was taken aback by the offer, but was quick to recover. He pulled Johnny around onto all fours, came up onto his knees, and slowly entered the younger man. The groan came from Johnny.

"Sam, I'm not made of porcelain." He stated irritably. "I can take a little rough work." Sam frowned, and then remembered that this wasn't the same Johnny had made love to. This Johnny wasn't looking for love. He was looking to be fucked, plain and simple. After a moment's hesitation, Sam gave him just that; he stopped holding back and put everything he into each thrust. Each time, the bed shook a little along with Johnny's entire body. From the moans and not-quite-contained ecstatic laughter, Sam was sure Johnny had that mad grin on his face that he'd had so often that day.

"Is this what you wanted?" Sam asked, rocking back and forth, each thrust coming closer and closer to home.

"Y…" Johnny was cut off as Sam finally hit breaking point and spilled into him, eliciting and excited and blissful moan. "Yes." He gasped, his eyes wide, his whole body filled with ecstasy. Sam grinned, and much to Johnny's disappointment, pulled out of him and didn't come back in. Instead, he more or less collapsed against Johnny's body, which, while Johnny has expected it, still came a great shock and knocked the air out of his lungs, causing both of them to fall flat against the bed. Johnny grinned happily though, rolling Sam's exhausted form off of him and slowly turning him up so that his head was resting against the pillows.

"Am I alive?" Sam gasped, smiling tiredly up at Johnny, who nodded, pulling the blankets up over him. "How?" Sam asked breathily, though he was unsure if he was going to stay awake for the answer.

"You fed me; I didn't feed on you." Johnny said cryptically. He kissed Sam, and then slipped under the covers with him, pulling him close and wrapping his legs and arms around Sam a little possessively. Sam just snuggled up against him, far too worn out to do anything else as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

When Johnny woke up again, he heard the shower running. It was strange. Just a day earlier, he had been the one in the shower with Sam lying here thinking of him. Just like he had been the one in Sam's arms the night before that. It was like they were replaying the same day with their rolls reversed, and with a hell of a lot more heat, no pun intended. 

And then he heard it. Foot steps outside. His lips twisted into a snarl; he knew who it was. He momentarily wondered how Dean had managed to escape his little holding cell down in the sewers, and then he got slowly out of the bed, pulling on his trousers as he crept to the door, standing up straight and pressing himself up against wall beside it, waiting for it to open.

"Sam-?" Was all Dean got out before Johnny struck, wrapping an arm tight around his throat and pushing him forwards into the bed. When Dean tried to pulled him off, he brought his knee up between the older man's legs, a feeling of satisfaction filling him when Dean let out a strangled groan.

"I owe you for teaching Sam to do that." Johnny whispered darkly in Dean's ear. He stared straight ahead, a look of furious determination on his face as he slowly crushed Dean's throat, while the hunter continued in a vain attempt to break free. He obviously knew he was losing the fight though, because his attempts were getting weaker and weaker with each passing second.

* * *

At first when he heard someone call his name, he thought it was Johnny, except when he called back, no one answered. It took him another minute to realize that whoever had called him hadn't sounded anything like Johnny. As a matter of fact… 

"Oh, crap." He said, rushing to turn the shower off, realizing that it had been Dean's voice he'd heard and not Johnny's. Somehow, he doubted Johnny would be overly welcoming to Dean, considering he had locked him in the sewers to keep him away.

He rushed to the bathroom door, grabbing a towel on his way and hurriedly wrapping it around his waist as he did so. He threw it open and took just enough time to take in the scene before him- Johnny kneeling on the ground, staring straight ahead, with his arm wrapped around Dean's throat, who was also on his knees- before running forward and falling to his knees in front of him, taking hold of Johnny's arm and pulling with all his might, though a small part of him didn't really expect to be able to pry the young mans' arm from his brother's throat.

Amazingly, Johnny let go almost as soon as Sam touched him; almost recoiled from he touch, and was standing almost immediately, backing away and staring at Dean with a startled look as the hunter fell forward into his brother's arms.

"Dean?" Sam gasped in a choke-up voice, lowering his brother onto his back and checking his pulse; he felt a wave of relief wash over him when he felt a slightly irregular- but by no means strong- beat under his two fingers. Something caught his eye, down by his Dean's waist where his hand was, as if he'd been trying to grab something before he lost consciousness. Looking down, Sam saw a dagger half-pulled out of a dark leather sheath on Dean's belt.

"That wouldn't have helped him." Johnny stated, staring at the dagger over Sam's shoulder. Reluctantly, the younger Winchester slid the dagger out, and saw the runes and symbols carved into the blade and part of the hilt. He swallowed, and looked over his shoulder at Johnny.

"It's a consecrated weapon; because you're not a full incubus, any consecrated weapon would work just as successfully, albeit, a little slowly, as fire." He said. He thought he saw a hint of nervousness flicker in Johnny's eyes, but it was gone before he was even sure it was there.

"We have to go." Johnny said. "Now, before he wakes up." His tone was forceful, and Sam looked up at him in surprise.

"You just tried to strangle my brother; excuse me if I'm less inclined to run away with you." He said. He saw a flicker of hurt cross Johnny's face.

"I wasn't going to kill him." He said in a small voice, bowing his head. "I just wanted to stop him." Sam narrowed his eyes at the young man, trying to get an idea at what he was thinking; if he meant what he was saying. With a sigh, he nodded, deciding to trust Johnny. Suddenly, Johnny looked up, looking towards the door into the room.

"She's coming." He said. "She'll come, and- and she'll have to stop me and… she'll take you away from me." Sam gave him a confused look, but Johnny just reached down and took him by the hand, pulling him to his feet and towards the door.

"Whoa, wait." Sam said, pulling his hand from Johnny's grip. "I am not going out there wearing a towel." He said determinedly. Johnny glanced longingly toward the door, and then back at Sam.

"Get dressed… fast." He said. Sam grabbed his clothes out of the bathroom and began getting dressed as fast as he could.

"Who's coming." Sam asked, glancing worriedly at Dean.

"Kit… she'll look after him." Johnny said, noticing Sam's worry about Dean. "Please… we have to go." He said desperately. Sam took one final look at his brother as he finished getting dressed; taking Dean's hand for a moment while Johnny took another look at the door.

"Don't worry." He whispered softly. Then he was on his feet and moving, as if in a trance, away from his brother. Only this time it wasn't a trance. He was completely in control; he was about to leave his brother for a demon.

They ran as fast as they could from the motel room, getting clear not a moment too soon. Just a couple minutes after they had left, Kit arrived, bringing a sigh of relief from Sam. Then they were moving again, this time to Johnny's car. They both got in, Johnny behind the wheel, and then they drove, as far away from the motel as they could get without actually leaving the town

They got a room of their own. Both of them were too confused and exhausted by the goings on of the morning and the night before to really know what they were going to do. Another thing that confused Sam was Johnny's personality. He had expected Johnny to become the nice, sweet, good Johnny he had been when they had first met after having sex with him. Nevertheless, it seemed as if… well, he certainly wasn't the same young man he'd been during their 'date'. He did not, however, seem like any incubus Sam had encountered, not that he had encountered very many in his life; only one, actually, not counting Johnny. That one hadn't been gay.

"Do you love me?" He asked as Johnny rubbed his shoulders, trying to ease the tension out. He was sitting on the floor, with Johnny sitting on the bed behind him, both of them fully clothed. Neither of them felt any real need to get any more intimate then that right at that moment.

"Do you need to ask that?" Johnny asked. It wasn't the same way he'd have said it a couple of days earlier, on their first night together, but it had no less emotion behind it, even if it wasn't the same one. Sam suddenly moved forward, out of Johnny's reach, and then turned and looked up at the younger man, a confused look on his face.

"Do I love you?" He asked, sounding not unlike Johnny the day before when he was still going through what Sam had decided were 'sex withdrawals'. Johnny smiled down at him in a playful way, and Sam almost thought he was the same again. Almost. "How can you be sure?" He asked. "How can I be sure?" Johnny shrugged.

"I think you do." He said, leaning down and kissing Sam on the forehead. "Have you decided?" He asked. "What you're going to do, I mean." Sam furrowed his brow. Then he sighed and wrapped his arms gently around the younger man.

"Yes." He said softly, and kissed Johnny on the lips, letting the world melt away for a few moments, letting the consequences of his decision be forgotten.

* * *

**A/N: And that's another chapter done. Not long till the end now. Like, one or two chapters more. And an epilogue. Maybe. So basically, two or three more updates, though when they'll happen, I've not a clue. Tell me what you think of this chapter; I had a lot of trouble with it, especially the fight scenes, and I hope it didn't show too much. Until next time, Cyas.**


	12. Release

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls. Lyrics are for the song 'Asleep' by The Smiths. That means I do not own the song either.

**Review Answers**:

_Spuffyshipper _– Thanks, glad you think so. Well, love makes a person do strange things… I personally have no experience in it, but it's what I've heard.

_jka1 _– Exciting, unexpected. Both of them are good. I'm guessing you mean _Sam_ and Johnny (if you aren't I think I wrote the chapter a little wrong). I'm pretty sure you are though, because, yes, they did come close to killing each other during their sex.

_talon81_ – Really? Thanks, that's good to know. Here's pretty much how it all plays out. This soon enough for you?

_Inuyashas' Plaything_ – Wow, thank you, thank you, thank you, to all those nice things you said. This soon enough for ya?

_DixieBelle51_ – So many nice things you say to me. It's good to know my work is appreciated.

_Rosalene_ – Still like? Well, as long as you still like, no problems. However, we're nearing the end of the story, so updates won't be coming for very long.

_vinsmouse_ – Yeah, I'm glad you think so. It took me a little while to think of a good name for it, I'm glad you think it suits it so well. Here's some more, soon enough?

_puplover77 _- Nice to know. I'll write as much as possible.

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Chapter 12: Release

**Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
I'm tired and I  
I want to go to bed**

The kiss deepened as the time passed, and Sam hesitated in breaking it off. He reached up with one hand and laid it on the back of Johnny's head, pulling him down just a little, pulling him closer. He felt Johnny's lips twist up into a smile; he was obviously enjoying the kiss as well.

"I do love you." Sam whispered through the kiss. He hadn't told anyone (not his brother – whole different story, not going there) those words since he'd been with Jess. Back then; he'd said them almost every day. Now the words sounded foreign. And at the same time, they seemed like they belonged.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself up inside. Johnny felt the tension through the kiss, and pulled back, looking at Sam with confusion on his face. Sam didn't wait. He struck.

Johnny gave a startled jerk, and a gasp of surprise and pain escaped his lips. Opening his eyes, Sam pulled his hand back, and the knife along with it. Johnny's eyes widened in shock when he saw the knife, the blade covered in his own blood. He looked down at his stomach and saw the small hole in the front of his shirt, and the blood already starting to soak it.

Johnny fell back against the bed, head hitting the pillows, his eyes wide with shock as he stared up at Sam, who immediately dropped the knife, kneeling down beside the bed, looking both heartbroken and shocked by what he'd just done.

**Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
And then leave me alone  
Don't try to wake me in the morning  
'Cause I will be gone**

"Sam…" Johnny gasped; Sam gently lifted the younger man's leg up onto the bed, laying him out straight, and then was right by his side again. "You…?" Sam nodded sadly.

"I told you… a consecrated weapon…" Sam's voice cracked. Johnny just stared at him; but there was none of the anger in his eyes that Sam had expected to see; only… acceptance? Forgiveness? Relief? And a lot of pain. Sam stared at him, not sure what he should do. What do you do when you stab the man who's just told you they love you?

"Johnny-"

"No." Johnny said forcefully, though Sam could see in his eyes that it took a lot of effort to sound that commanding. "I don't want to die alone." He gasped. "I've been dying alone for four years." Sam wiped his eyes, taking Johnny's hand in his.

"You won't be… alone." He said. "I'll be here." Johnny's eyes shone with tears, and he smiled sadly at Sam, acceptance evident on his face. He knew he was going to die.

**Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
I will feel so glad to go**

"Johnny, I-" Sam began again.

"Sam." Johnny said, raising in eyebrow. "Still don't know when to shut up." He smiled weakly, and Sam felt a few stray tears starting to break free. He quickly wiped them away.

"I'm sorry." He said, looking straight at Johnny. _Sorry for stabbing you in the stomach with a weapon blessed specifically to kill demons like you._ That was what he said in his mind. The younger man shrugged, or tried to, at least.

"Don't be." He said in a small voice. He tried to lean up, but found himself too drained to do anything. So Sam leaned down, and Johnny pulled him into a final kiss, with Sam helping him to wrap his arms around his chest, holding him tightly, not caring about the blood that was no doubt covering the front of his shirt. Again, he let the rest of the world melt away in favour of enjoying the touch of the younger man against him.

And then he felt Johnny's hold around him loosen, and he got heavier in Sam's arms. Sam let out a slow, shaky breath, still trying to keep himself under control.

He let Johnny fall back onto the bed, eyes closed so he didn't have to see his face. His whole body shook as he tried to make sense of all the thoughts and feelings filling his mind. But all he could feel was pain as he opened his eyes and stared down. He was torturing himself, staring into Johnny's half-open, dead eyes.

The door behind him opened, but he didn't turn around to see who it was. He continued staring straight at Johnny. Besides, he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

"Sam?" Dean's voice fell on deaf ears. Sam completely ignored him, brushing a stray lock of hair from Johnny's forehead. Then he gently moved his hands down and fully closed Johnny's eyes. Dean stood back, giving his brother some space. Mostly because he had no idea what to say or do, so it was just easier on both of them if he stayed back.

Kit joined them a few seconds later (they'd been in her car- not as much an embarrassment as Johnny's had been- so she had to park it while Dean practically jumped out before it stopped moving), and she froze when she saw Sam kneeling on the floor beside the bed, with Johnny lying on the bed. She made to go forward, but Dean grabbed her arm and shook his head.

"_Not now._" He mouthed, and Kit glanced back over at her brother's body, and at Sam, and then back to Dean. She sighed and stood back with him.

**Sing me to sleep  
Sing me to sleep  
I don't want to wake up  
On my own anymore**

Sam eventually acknowledged they were there. He glanced at them as he got up and walked out of the room. He didn't say anything; just took a quick look at them and then continued on out the door. Then came the problem of what to do next. Neither Dean nor Kit were exactly eager to move the body, but they also couldn't just leave it there for someone else to discover.

Dean took a step closer. He saw the bloody knife on the floor, and the blood covering Johnny's front; it was obvious Sam had killed him, what didn't make sense was why. Judging by how adamant Sam had been about killing Johnny the day before, Dean found it hard to believe he had done it willingly. Still, if that were true, what had he been doing with the consecrated knife that had been at Dean's belt at the other motel room?

"He's out there, covered in my brother's blood." Kit said. She turned to look at Dean. "Don't you think that might be a little suspicious?" She asked. Dean's eyes widened.

"You're right." He ran past Kit, leaving her alone with her brother's body, and went in search of Sam.

He hadn't gotten far; the younger Winchester was leaning against the wall outside the room, his hands hanging limply at his sides, staring straight ahead. He glanced over as Dean came out; Dean returned the look, waiting for his brother to say something. After a few long minutes, Sam sighed and started talking.

"I killed him," He said, as if Dean didn't already know. "I looked him in the eyes, told him I loved him, and then I stuck a knife in his gut." His voice cracked. "What kind of person am I, Dean?" He asked, looking down at the ground. "What kind of person kills the ones he loves?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, leaning against the wall beside Sam. "But as far as Johnny goes, I think the guy you loved was already dead." Sam turned an exasperated looked on his brother. "I'm just saying… would you even have considered taking that knife if he was the same man? But he wasn't." He probably shouldn't be so hard on Sam. But dammit, when was he going to learn to distinguish the difference between a man and a monster? "Johnny died when he took that step over the line and killed his father." Now Sam looked like he wanted to hit Dean.

"He-"

"Yeah, I know the guy deserved it; that's not the point." Dean said. "But he was still… human. It wasn't for Johnny to decide whether he _should_ be killed or not."

"But it was okay for you to decide Johnny deserved to be killed?"

"Johnny wasn't human." Dean said. Sam opened his mouth to retort, but found himself unable to say anything to that. Dean suddenly wished he could take that back, as true as they were, they weren't what Sam had needed to hear right then.

**Don't feel bad for me  
I want you to know  
Deep in the cell of my heart  
I really want to go**

Sam turned away, his breaths short and shallow. Dean could've kicked himself for being so blunt with his brother; in the space he was in right then. He took a deep breath reached over laying a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Sam-" Sam shrugged Dean's hand away. "Sam, I-"

"Don't." Sam snapped. "Just, don't, Dean. I killed him. Killers don't get comfort. They get… punished." He still wasn't looking at Dean. "This is my punishment. I shouldn't have left… but we did. This is my punishment."

"What?" Dean asked. "Sam, there's nothing wrong with… okay, yes, you left me unconscious in a room, in favour of going with an incubus, but-"

"Not that." Sam said, turning around and looking at Dean; his eyes were red from rubbing them too much, trying to keep the tears at bay, and his face was stained by the tears that got past. It took a moment, but Dean figured out what his brother meant.

"Sam, do we have to go back to this?" He asked. "How many times am I going to have to tell you this? It wasn't your fault; she would've died, whether you were there or not."

"But I would've gone with her!" Sam cried. Dean was completely thrown off by the outburst, and Sam took advantage of the silence to continue. "Don't you get it, Dean? I hurt everyone I…" He swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. "At least if I'd been there… if I'd died with her, then…" But he couldn't continue; his knees buckled and he fell. And Dean was there to catch him. Finally, Sam could hold on no longer; he let it all out, crying desperately into Dean's jacket, feeling his brothers protecting arms around him like they hadn't been since he was twelve.

Dean, who was horribly out of practice at being a comforting big brother, just hugged Sam to him, like he had when they were younger. In the protective circle of Dean's arms, Sam felt safe to let everything out, because that had been the only place safe from their father's heart hardening training for years.

Neither brother paid attention to how long they were out there. They were just there as long as they needed to be. As long as Sam needed to be. But finally the tears stopped, and then they stayed there a little longer while Sam recovered from the small outburst. Then finally they got to their feet again, Sam looking shaky, but otherwise okay. Minus the fact that the front of his shirt was covered in dried blood.

**There is another world  
There is a better world  
Well, there must be**

"Come on, let's go get you cleaned up." Dean said, guiding Sam back toward the room. Sam seemed hesitant, at first, and only went in after Dean called out to Kit to cover the body (well, he said Johnny, because it would've sounded just a little too suspicious if he had said body). They closed the door behind them, took a quick look around the room; Kit was sitting on the bed, and there was a bulge under the sheet she'd covered Johnny's body with. Sam visibly shook, but Dean guided him towards the bathroom, making sure to hold his head so that he was facing that direction (because, for some reason, Sam's eyes seemed to lock onto Johnny's body without proper guidance, even though it was probably the last thing the younger Winchester wanted to see).

Once they were in the bathroom, Dean helped Sam strip down to his underwear, then helped him into the shower and pulled the curtain across. A second later, the underwear was thrown over the top of the shower. The sound of running water soon followed, and after a minute Dean gathered up Sam's clothes (even the pieces that weren't covered in blood) and took them back out to the room, finding a bag and dumping them all into it.

**Bye, bye  
Bye, bye  
Bye...**

"Remind me to take that out and dump it somewhere later on." He said to Kit, who nodded absently. He glanced over at the bed, and then back at the young woman. "How're you doing?" She shrugged. He could see she'd been crying, but like Sam she seemed to have gotten it all out.

The thought that Sam had gotten it all out was dashed when they heard the sounds of crying coming from the bathroom, barely heard over the sound of the shower running. Dean sighed; like so much to do with his brother these days, he had no idea what to do about this.

Kit came up with the solution after a minute. She walked over to the fridge, and took out two beers, handing one over to Dean. He looked at the bottle, then up at Kit.

"Won't we have to pay for these?" He asked. She shrugged again.

"I'd say we'll be too busy with the police to worry about paying for a couple of beers." She said. She noticed Dean's eyes widen when she mentioned the police. "Don't worry. I don't blame Sam for what he did. True, I wish he… well, I wish there'd been another way. But I don't blame him, and I'll make sure you two are well away from here before I call the cops." Dean nodded.

"I'll just take some clean clothes in to Sam, then I'll, uh…" He glanced down at the bottle, then set it down on the table and suddenly realized Sam and Johnny hadn't brought anything with them when they'd made their escape.

"Here." Kit said, handing Dean her car keys. "Get back to the motel and get some of Sam's clothes. We can go back later for the rest." Dean nodded, taking the keys.

"Okay, thanks." He said, and turned, heading for the door.

"No problem." Kit said with a sigh. She took a swig of her beer, and then went and sat down at the table, doing her very best not to look over at the bed. Outside, the sun had begun to set (had the day really gone by that fast?), and all three of them knew that they were in for a very long night.

* * *

**A/N: sets up barricade Please don't kill me. Okay, so I killed Johnny. I've told you all before, I'm twisted, and I find pleasure in torturing the characters emotionally. This seemed like the best way to do it. Plus, I like writing brotherly moments between Sam and Dean, so extra for me. So, yeah, review, let me know what you think. No need to tell me I'm evil though, because I already know that. Just the epilogue to write now (yeah, that's right, story's just about over). Until next time, Cyas.**


	13. Epilogue

**Twisted Love**

**Beta'd by mysterychic. Many thanks to her for beta-ing.**

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Supernatural, but I do own Johnny, Kit, their parents, Jack Foel, and Newbridge Falls.

**Review Answers**:

_Miss Meehan _– I think they've been arrested once or twice, just not ended up in a cell, but thanks anyway. Thanks, yeah, I actually didn't think about the motel room. Hmmm… I wonder what ever happened to Detective Foel. I guess we'll never know. Thanks. So, you think you know who the demon is? Well, you'll get to find out without waiting. Of course, you'll find that out before you read this. One day I'll start answering reviews with the review reply system. I'm glad you think  
I'm a good original writer. Maybe it'll work it's way into my original writing outside of fanfiction. Yeah, I'm actually not sure how many of the theories are true and how many aren't. Oh well, Another thing we'll probably never know.

_jka1_ – Ah, good, sad. That's what I was going for. Here's the epilogue. Enjoy it if you will.

_talon81_ – Thanks. Yeah, poor Sam. Loses Jess, loses Johnny (well, here), and then later on he'll have to leave Sarah. Here's the end, hope you like it.

_Inuyasha's Plaything _– That's good, cause I love writing them. Here's the update, is it soon enough for ya?

Spuffyshipper – Everybody's feeling sorry for Sam, lol. I suppose they should, having to kill someone he was in love with.

_DixieBelle51 _– Yes, we've established that I'm a twisted murderer who cause Sam untold pain, lol. Actually, know, I don't think anyone's gone so far as to accuse me of being that. But that's the gist of it, hehe. Well, you understand more then me, lol.

vinsmouse – Yeah, I was having trouble doing the whole scene between them while he was dying, I'm glad it seems to have turned out okay. Yeah, I figured, he's so against chick flick moments, even brotherly instinct (if there is such a thing) can only go so far.

Rose of No Man's Land – Now there's a reaction I've been hoping for, lol. Glad you understand; I sure as hell don't, hehe. And I'm pleased to see the lyrics were well chosen. I havent' actually heard anything else by the Smiths, I just heard that song one day and I thought 'Okay, I'm gonna kill Johnny, that chapter's going to be a song-fic-thing, and this will eb the song' or something like that.  
I'm glad you enjoyed that, you really think I'm good at writing them in angst? Hmmm, never really thought I was that good.  
Yeah, I was surprised when I realized this was the last update I'd be making on this story. Hmmm, feeling sorry for Kit. That wasn't planned in the story. She wasn't even supposed to have such a big part in the story, it just sort of happened. But still good, it means I'm really good at writing cause all the characters are getting sympathy. Here's more. Here's the last one actually.

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Epilogue

Sam was sitting on the swings rocking back and forth slowly, staring off across the ocean. Because this was his dream, and the swing-set was allowed to be anywhere in his dream, and it just happened to be placed atop a high cliff looking out over the vast ocean.

He smiled sadly when he felt strong arms encircle his chest gently, and the weight of someone leaning against his back. "I knew I'd find you here." He said. His response was the playful nibbling of his earlobe, and his smile became a little happier.

"How was the funeral?" Johnny, or Sam's dream-Johnny, asked once he was done with Sam's ear.

"Bearable." Sam said. "Barely." He heard a small chuckle. "No one else showed up, except Kit and Dean and the funeral director." Johnny's mouth had moved down to the side of Sam's neck, and the Sam was content to just let himself be played with for a while, enjoying the feel of Johnny's lips on his skin. He put his hands over Johnny's, forcing the younger man to keep holding onto him.

"You're nice and warm." Johnny said, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. "Like you were on the first night."

"And you're cold." Sam said.

"Comes from being dead." Johnny stated like it didn't mean a thing. Sam was silent, enjoying the feel of Johnny's body against his own, even if the younger man was cold as ice. "You're going to have to wake up soon." Johnny said, spoiling Sam's delusion that Johnny was really there.

"I don't want to." He stated in a small voice. "You won't be there." He leaned back against the younger man, as if looking for reassurance. After a long minute, Johnny spoke.

"I'm not _here _either." He whispered. Sam frowned, and suddenly Johnny was gone. Sam stood up off the swings, turning to look for where Johnny could've gone -

Only to wake up in bed in the motel room had gotten the night before. He blinked, looking around the room like he was expecting Johnny to just appear out of nowhere. He suddenly realized there were tears running down his face, and wondered if he'd started crying before or after he'd woken up. He hastily wiped his eyes, and then remembered that there was no one to hide the tears from; Dean and Kit had a room of their own (Kit had made sure Dean thought it was his idea for the two of them to get a separate room for Sam).

He looked over at the bedside table where the clock sat, and let out a groan when he discovered it was only a little past four; he had intended to sleep in.

Slowly, he got to his feet and then stumbled into the bathroom, pulling off his boxers and then turning on the shower, turning the hot water up as much as he could bear, and then climbing in. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the scolding water wash over his body, enjoying the feeling of light-headedness that came with the steam-clogged air after a few minutes.

He took in a deep breath, and let it out in a strangled sob and started crying all over again, like he had so often over the past couple of days. And when he was finished, he leaned back against the wall, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, the water pouring down into his lap.

He finally managed to work up the energy to turn the shower off, and got out, shivering furiously at the sudden change in temperature as he stepped out of the shower and into the bathroom which, despite being filled with steam, was still quite cold in the early morning. But he ignored the cold wrapping a towel around his shoulders and moving back into the main room, digging some semi-clean clothes out of his backpack and pulling them on. Then he crawled back into bed, pulling the covers tight around himself and lying there with his eyes squeezed shut.

After what seemed like forever, he finally fell back into a restless sleep. And this time he didn't even have the comfort of dreaming about Johnny to keep him going. This time, there was only darkness, and a bloodied knife that kept slicing through the darkness towards him, only to vanish a second before it hit him.

"Sam!" He sat bolt upright as Dean's voice pulled him from his sleep, looking wildly around like he expected the knife to come flying at him. "Sam, you up in there? Or at least decent?" Dean called again, and Sam realized his brother was out in the hall. He sat for a minute in silence before remembering Dean was waiting for an answer.

"I'm decent." He said. "Since when have you cared?" He added, swinging his legs off the bed and getting to his feet.

"Since I know you do." Dean said, opening the door and walking in. "You look like you slept with Bloody Mary, without all the blood and stuff." He stated, taking in Sam's dishevelled appearance.

"Thanks, you're too kind." Sam said sarcastically, trying to rub the residual sleep out of his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked.

"Either half past never or eleven-fifteen." Dean said, glancing at the clock.

"Quarter past eleven!" Sam asked in shock.

"Not quite what I just said, but basically, yeah." He said. "You're just waking up, aren't you?" He asked.

Sam looked at Dean for a moment. "I thought the whole getting out of bed as you came in kind of gave that away." He said. "Why'd you let me sleep in so late?" He asked.

"Because I was busy sleeping in so late myself." Dean said, a sheepish grin on his face. Sam blinked. "Don't ask." Dean ordered.

"Don't tell." Sam responded. He looked around the room for some clothes, and then remembered his early morning shower and getting dressed, and then going back to bed fully clothed. "How much longer are we going to be here?" He asked, and the exact same time Dean said "We can stay longer if you like." Sam couldn't help but laugh. "You sure you're not the one with ESP?" He asked, a wry grin on his face. Dean responded by hitting him lightly on the back of the head. "Ow." Sam said, and this time Dean laughed. "Jerk." Sam said good-naturedly.

"Bitch." Dean responded, and they both laughed a little more. Then the moment passed and didn't seem as funny anymore, and Sam's smile slowly lost its warmth and fell back into a frown.

"I want… Let's get out of here quickly." Sam said. "I don't think I can stay here any longer." He stated. Dean nodded, and turned to leave. "Dean…" Sam started, and then hesitated. But Dean turned back around to look at him.

"Yeah?" He asked, his look thoughtful.

"Nothing." Sam said. "I'll see you in ten." He said. Again, Dean nodded, only this time he actually left without Sam stopping him.

* * *

With the decision to leave that day, Dean and Kit decided to go out and restock any supplies Sam and Dean would need in case they didn't come across any sign of civilisation for a couple of days (since they had no real idea where they were heading), leaving Sam alone at the motel to do whatever he wanted with the time he had left in Johnny's home town. 

He went for a short walk, but decided it was too cold to enjoy the walk, and turned back. When he got back to the motel room, he turned on his laptop and scanned the internet for anything that seemed like their kind of job. But the world's evils seemed to have gone into hibernation in an attempt to keep his mind of Johnny, because he couldn't find a single thing that was even remotely like anything they could hunt.

So he shut down his laptop and packed it up, putting it on his bed. Then he went to his backpack and tipped it upside-down over the second bed, dumping everything onto it, and then taking a small box from the mess of clothes. He opened the box and stared intently at its contents; a single golden ring with a small diamond imbedded in the very top.

It was the ring he'd bought for Jess, just a day before Dean showed up and asked for his help. He'd been planning on giving it to her when he got back; he even planned a speech on the drive back once he'd finished reading the map for Dean.

He was probably just torturing himself by keeping it, he'd stared at it for hours on end at night after Jess's death. Eventually it seemed to start weighing down in his pocket, so he moved it to the bottom of his backpack, and that was where it had stayed until now.

He closed the box with a snap, looking away from it, his mind flooded with thoughts of both Jess and Johnny. Of their deaths. With a cry of frustration, he threw the box as hard as he could at the window, hearing the satisfying sound of the window shattering from the impact of the small box.

His whole body shook as he stared at the broken window. He let out a strangled sob and turned around, walking out of the room as if in a trance, and around to the front where the box had landed. He brushed the bits of glass off it, and took it back into his room. Then he went back out to the parking lot (thankful that Dean and Kit had taken Kit's mustang and not the Impala), and got a plastic bag from the back seat, taking it back to the room and dumping the contents onto the floor.

They were the clothes Johnny had been wearing when Sam had stabbed him. Sam took the flannel shirt from the bunch, and looked it over for any signs of blood. Amazingly, there were only a few specks along the button line. Sam recalled that Johnny had had the front of his shirt undone when he'd been stabbed; that was probably why.

He gently folded the shirt, then put the box in the centre, and then carefully placed the two items at the bottom of his backpack. Two memories of two people he'd loved. Two people whose deaths he was responsible for. He shed a few tears as he slowly packed his clothes back into the backpack, burying the box and shirt beneath it all. Then he closed the backpack, put it with his laptop, and then sat down at the table, waiting for Dean and Kit to return.

* * *

"Goodbye Newbridge Falls, until next time." Dean said as the left the town. Sam didn't say anything; as far as he was concerned, if they ever came back her, it'd be a lifetime too soon. He sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest, perfectly happy to just sleep the rest of the day away. 

He'd barely closed his eyes before the sound of a text message being received on Dean's phone brought him back to a full state of consciousness.

"Mind checking that?" Dean asked, glancing over at Sam. "Hands full and all." He said, nodding to his hands on the wheel. Sam shook his head with a smile, and took out Dean's phone, glancing at the text message. His eyes went wide as saucers when he saw the message. "What?" Dean asked, noticing Sam's wide-eyed shock. "What is it?"

"It's really-" He couldn't help but laughed. "It's from Dad, it's… I do not believe this." He said.

"As much as I'm happy to hear your laughing again, would you mind shedding some light on this joke?" He asked.

"'Dean'," Sam said, reading the message out loud for his brother to hear. "'I'm sorry about the last message. I was thinking about Johnny the day I sent it and jumbled up the coordinates.'" Dean's eyes widened. "'Here are the actual coordinates.'" He looked over at his brother. "What do you have to say to that?" He asked.

Dean just smiled and shook his head, turning his attention back to the road. Sam held a smile for a while, but eventually grew tired again. "Wake me up when it's my turn to drive." He said, reaching into the glove compartment and taking out Dean's sunglasses. Dean arched an eyebrow, but Sam just smiled at him as he pulled on the shades, then leaned back against the headrest and fell into an easy sleep.

**

* * *

A/N: And it's over. Wow, you would not believe how hard this epilogue was to write. And now, for the part I still dread. Thanking each individual who has reviewed this story (they're ordered in the order I read them from the review list).**

**Thanks to Rose of No Man's Land, vinsmouse, DixieBelle51, Spuffyshipper, Inuyasha's Plaything, talon81, Miss Meehan, jka1, puplover77, Rosalene, Chase El Toliso, Thru Terry's Eyes, Tyranusfan, Kat, bououou, PhantomFable, Maygin, Scott Andrei, Nina, Anora, eddy6401, Sammy girl at heart, Fractured Dreams, JRAismine. A grand total of 24 reviewers, not counting the two flamers who will remain nameless.**

**Plus a big thank you to mysterychic for beta-ing this story.**

**I hope y'all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until next time, Cyas. **


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